


Charred Redemption

by Jesterbelle



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Multi, Multiple Perspectives, Slow Build, Smut, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2018-04-07 05:04:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 41
Words: 93,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4250406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jesterbelle/pseuds/Jesterbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charon had accepted his fate in this shit stain world, a slave in all but name for the worst the Wasteland had to offer. Then she swept in, the Savior of the Wastes. Charon didn't believe in Saviors, but he believed in her and he was going to do everything in his power to keep her safe. If she would let him. FLW is not a Mary Sue. I will be playing with morality, but for all intents and purposes a good karma FLW. </p><p>There's a lot of angst, and smut, and fluff. Definitely canonical. Feel free to comment ideas, situations, or short pieces that you might enjoy seeing. Going to update at least monthly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Paradise Crossed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LemonTwister](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonTwister/gifts).



> When I heard that Fallout 4 was coming out I was really excited. I've waited so long for this game and in my excitement I went and played Fallout 3 again. I have always really liked the dynamic between Charon and the Lone Wanderer. I've always wanted to create my own story about what their relationship was like. Finally I sat down at wrote the first chapters in about 2 hours. It was really rough, but thanks to some friends I worked through the editing. At this point I have 8 chapters written out, and more coming, so if you enjoy a long, slow build you're in the right place. I want to slowly develop their relationship because I think to do it any differently is a disservice. I also look at the Lone Wanderer's other relationships in the Wasteland. Future Smut is a definite. This chapter is short so I'm posting the second and third chapter as well. I hope you enjoy the world of Fallout as I depict it. I hope to follow multiple quest lines and random encounters.

As Sarah crouched behind a rock, she wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. She glanced around, squinting as she looked to the right. There it was: the Museum of History. It was a slim chance, but she was hoping that she could find out something about her father. All that stood between her and the museum were these last two super mutants. Sarah checked her Pip-Boy.  _Only 4 stimpaks left, great._  Quickly, she shoved a mutfruit in her mouth and washed it down with some dirty water, grimacing at the taste. After checking her equipment, she edged towards the super mutant. As she snuck up behind him, she thought to herself, ‘The idiot doesn’t even know I’m here.’ When she was within five feet, she aimed her shotgun and blood exploded everywhere. The super mutant screamed and fell, decidedly dead. Sarah watched as its blood filled the cracks in the sidewalk, and grinned.  _God, do I love this_ , she thought. She had decided early on that there was nothing wrong with enjoying killing things, as long as you were doing it for the right reasons. Mutants, raiders, animals that attacked her. She felt no pity for them anymore. The first time she killed something bigger than a radroach, which didn’t count in her mind, was a mole rat on her way to Megaton. It had bothered her for days. Bothered that she took a life, but even more that it thrilled her. She had faced something and won and that feeling was indescribable and powerful. 

As she turned to face the second super mutant, he bellowed at her, “Now try and hide from this!” She was surprised at how close he had gotten to her. He swung a sledgehammer aimed at her ribs and she dove to the side. It clipped her right shoulder and she heard the wet crunch of bone. She landed on her back and pointed her shotgun at the super mutant’s face. She fired, blinding him. The super mutant started swinging wildly, grazing her clavicle on the same side as her injured shoulder. Sarah felt her arm go limp and cursed. She stepped out of the mutant’s range and took her time finishing him off, using her pistol. It felt slightly off in her left hand, and at first she took pot shots, until her aim adjusted. Afterwards, Sarah walked towards the museum, her left arm dangling unnaturally, whistling as she went.

***

“Stop right there, Smoothskin,” a voice warned, and Sarah turned to see a laser rifle aimed at her face. “You must be lost,” the ghoul jeered, “or another human with a death wish.” She lowered her weapon and smiled gruesomely, “Welcome to the Mall, tourist.  My name’s Willow.” She nodded her gun towards the door to the museum and added, "Most of the residents aren’t crazy about humans, but they’ll sell to you, fix you up, as long as your caps are good and you’re not a ghoul hater.” Sarah shook her head. She was beginning to lose consciousness. As she hobbled towards the door, Willow chuckled under her breath.  _Humans_ , Willow thought.

As soon as Sarah opened the door to Underworld, a ghoul in a utility outfit stopped her. “Oh, well, would you look at that! We got us a smoothskin visitor. We haven’t seen one of your type in a long time,” he said, eyeing her.

She was in no mood for banter and snapped, “Can I get the tour guide speech later? I need a doctor.” The man, Winthrop, she noticed his name sewn onto his jumper, pointed towards the end of the hallway. Sarah sighed, thinking, ‘ _It’s going to be a long day.’_

***

"Like I was saying," Doc Barrows continued, "the shoulder is dislocated and your clavicle is fractured." Sarah gave a tight nod and set her teeth. She knew what that meant. She sat atop a dingy bed in the Underworld's infirmary, which was called The Chop Shop. She wasn't sure she appreciated the humor in the name, especially when a half-falling-apart ghoul sat in the corner. An occasional moan stemmed from there, followed by a glare from Doc Barrows. "You bring this on yourself, Patchwork."

"I know... I...know. Charon, though. Azrhukhal didn't have to... Wait... What was I saying?" the man in the corner managed to stammer out. The smell of alcohol filled the clinic, and it wasn't coming from the antiseptic.

Nurse Graves came around the screen and handed Sarah a belt. "Bite down on this dear. It will help," she said gently. Once the belt was in-between her teeth, Sarah closed her eyes and began to count to ten. She made it to five when the doctor wrenched her shoulder blade back into place. Sarah screamed through the belt. Doc Barrows and Nurse Graves turned her over, and before she could spit out the belt to yell for him to stop, Barrows had reset her clavicle, sending her spiraling into darkness.

When Sarah woke up, sore, disoriented, and hungry, she checked her Pip-Boy to find it was twelve hours later. The corner occupied by Patchwork was now empty, and he was nowhere to be seen. Nurse Graves smiled at her from a nearby chair, "You're awake!"

Sarah grimaced as she rotated her shoulder; at least it worked now, albeit painfully. "Yeah, it's a miracle. Where can I get something to eat?" Sarah asked. "And some chems too." She was still in too much pain to be chipper.

"If you want food, it's Carol's; if you want chems, it's the Ninth Circle. Supplies, there's Underworld Outfitters. Before you go though, your payment…" Nurse Graves trailed off. Sarah blushed. She had almost forgotten to pay, after they had done so much to fix her up. She dropped a small mountain of caps on the table. "That should be enough," Sarah grinned. Before Nurse Graves could tell her that that was too much, the door had opened and closed.

On the second floor Sarah stood in the breezeway, looking left and right. Chems, or food. Food, or chems. Eventually the throbbing in Sarah's shoulder won and she ambled over to the Ninth Circle. It was a dirty bar, but then again every bar in the Capital Wasteland was filthy. _That tends to happen at the end of the world._ A thick smoke hung near the ceiling, added to when someone lit the occasional cigarette. After bullshitting with what had to be the sleaziest guy in the Wasteland, a ghoul named Ahzrukhal, Sarah sat at a lone table, injected herself with med-X, popped a Buffout and closed her eyes. The pain flowed out of her arm and Sarah whistled in relief. The place may have been shit, but the chems were Grade A. Checking her Pip-Boy, she realized how late it was. Inspecting the fellow customers, she realized most of them were knee deep in booze or Chems or a combination of the two. 

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a ghoul standing by himself, leaning against the wall. He watched everyone in the room, shifting from person to person, never settling too long. His arms were crossed, a hostile expression on his face. When he saw her looking at him, he narrowed his eyes. He had a bold, unflinching gaze that intrigued her.

Curious, Sarah got up and walked over to the ghoul. "Hi, I was wonderin-" she began.

"Talk to Ahzrukhal," he interrupted. His voice raked over the words. He towered over her, his arms still crossed. 

"But I was just-" she tried again. 

"Talk. To. Ahzrukhal." He looked down at her like he could squash her in an instant and it infuriated her. Flushed with anger she stomped away. When she turned, a smile touched the ghoul's face. This smoothskin was amusing, at least. Then, just as quickly as the smile appeared it was gone.

Sarah stomped up to the bar and slammed her hands down on the counter. "Ahzrukhal," she growled," who is that?"

Ahzrukhal followed her glare and laughed. "That's Charon. Let's just say… well, he's a loyal employee. Don't mess with me, and he won't mess with you."

Something about the way he emphasized “employee made Sarah blanch, "So, he's your slave?"

"I hold his contract, which makes me his employer," Ahzrukhal corrected. "He will do what I ask without question. He is absolutely loyal to whomever holds his contract. Unfailing, unflinching, until the day that employment ends. Don't get me wrong, I have no doubt that he holds no end of animosity towards me. But so long as he is my employee, he is as gentle as a teddy bear," he smirked.

"I'll give you two thousand caps for his contract," Sarah blurted out. She had no idea what she was doing, but there was nothing she hated more than slavers.

"You sure you've got that kind of scratch, smoothskin? If you have the money I suppose that could work… " In reply Sarah rummaged around in her bag until she found a bag with 101 stitched into the side. Caps clattered to the bar counter as they fell from the bag. Everyone in the Ninth Circle turned to watch as this human counted the largest pile of caps they had ever seen. Half an hour later Sarah held four caps in her hand, while Ahzrukhal began transporting the caps to his safe. Sarah rubbed her eyes. Counting all those caps had been exhausting. "I'll give you the pleasure of informing Charon yourself," Ahzrukhal said over his shoulder.

As the smoothskin approached Charon, he narrowed his eyes. She looked far too confident walking towards him. How much did it take for this girl to get the message? Rocking back and forth on her heels, she smiled. "Hey, Charon." She drug out the “Y” sound, making it almost a word on its own.

"Talk to-," he began his one line.

Sarah smiled even bigger and shook her head. "Nope, I have good news. I'm your new employer."

Charon froze. He eyed her, like he was trying to decide if she was lying or not. "You purchased my contract from Ahzrukhal?" Charon grinned hideously. "So, I am no longer in his service. That is good to know." For the first time in a long time, Sarah felt a pang of fear in her stomach.  _Maybe he could squash me in an instant._  With that terrifying look still on his face, Charon said politely, "Please wait here. I must take care of something." As he walked towards Ahzrukhal, Sarah turned and trailed behind him a short ways behind. Ahzrukhal and Charon spoke for a moment about something Sarah couldn’t understand, and then, before anyone could stop him, Charon pulled his gun and shot Ahzrukhal once in the head. As his body slumped against the counter another shot shredded the already-dead ghoul's chest. The limp body slipped to the floor, leaving a trail of blood down the counter. Everyone in the bar began screaming, fighting to leave as they craned their heads to see if Ahzrukhal was really dead. Charon nodded towards Sarah, saying, "Alright, let's go."

"Whoa! What the fuck was that?" Sarah stammered, her eyes traveling back to the bloody mess that was Charon's former boss.

"Ahzrukhal was an evil bastard," Charon said calmly. "Now that you're my employer, it freed me to rid the world of that disgusting rat. Now, for good or ill, I serve you."

Sarah paled and said, half-jokingly, "Remind me to stay on your good side." Charon said nothing. The bar was now empty, mostly because people were afraid that they might be next on Charon's list. Sarah took that opportunity to search for and pick the lock on Ahzrukhal's safe. Charon looked at her questioningly, but said nothing. Sarah shrugged. "I just paid two thousand caps, and obviously he's not going to be needing it. We could use some upgrades. Your armor looks like it hasn't been repaired in 30 years. Wait… how old are you?" It was hard to tell his age. It was hard to tell the age of any ghoul.

Charon replied, "I was born in 2069."

"So you were alive before the Great War?" Sarah gasped. "What was it like, where were you from, who-?"

Before Sarah could continue, Charon whirled around. He said nothing, but his entire body screamed, “Leave it alone,” so the conversation was dropped altogether. Once she was in the safe she took the money she had given him, as well as the rest of the caps he had. She left the pre-war money behind. It didn’t do much more than fuel fires now. After that she was ready to leave completely but she had one final stop she needed to make.

Sarah managed to find Underworld Outfitters and a ghoul woman greeted them, "Oh, a human. It's been so long since I had a customer!" Her eyes looked past Sarah, and when she saw Charon she started stammering. "I-uh, what can I get for you…two?" she asked, the latter word practically a question of its own. The walls were lined with shelves and a dirty rope barrier divided half the room.

"Well, we need all the food that this will buy, and I'd like to have a look at your weapons and armor," Sarah answered, dropping a small pouch of caps on the counter. It was most of the money she had stolen from Ahzrukhal, sans what she had given him in the first place. "And while you do that, I hear you're the person to ask about the history of this place."

The little woman beamed at Sarah and launched into the full history of this place, as best she knew it. While the woman, Tulip, she said, filled a satchel with mutfruit and Pre-War food she prattled on, talking about the pamphlets and books that she had read. One book,  _Paradise Lost_ , was apparently the basis for the entire underworld exhibit. She reached under the counter and produced a book, putting it into the bag with the food. "I found a big box of these in the back room. A gift for listening to me ramble."

"No, it was interesting!" Sarah exclaimed, nodding at the woman, "but thank you, books are hard to come by!" Finished with the food, she led Sarah to the back room, where the majority of her weapon and armor stock was kept. Sarah scanned over the equipment. Most of it was old and in rather poor condition, all but a set of Combat Armor and a sniper rifle. Sarah walked over to the gun and began inspecting it eagerly. "Tulip, this weapon is in pristine condition. It's hardly even been used!" Sarah cried as she looked into the chamber. The armor was in similar condition. Sarah looked at Tulip intently. "I have to own this gun, Tulip. Name your price." Sarah glanced at the Combat armor and added, "Oh, and the armor, too."

***

Tulip was slightly amused by this girl's antics over the gun. She had found it in the back room of the history museum, locked in a closet, with the combat armor. It had taken three hours and 30 bobby pins before the door was unlocked. She figured that it was the security guard's and had taken it to sell, but no one was willing to pay Tulip's asking price. "It's eight hundred caps for both, and I'll even throw in two boxes of ammunition for the rifle. Plus another two hundred for the supplies."

***

"Done," Sarah stated. She swung the gun over her shoulder, wincing. Her shoulder was still in pain and the Buffout was beginning to fade. She tossed the Combat armor to Charon.

"Put this on. Can't have you dying on me," Sarah said.

"As you wish," Charon replied.

 _Not much of a talker_ , Sarah thought. She counted out the caps and pushed the large pile towards the ghoul woman. "Easy come, easy go," Sarah smiled. She was beyond happy with her purchases. Meanwhile, Charon gazed at the two women with what seemed like abject disinterest. "Tulip, if you don't mind me asking, what do you spend caps on down here anyways?"

Tulip chuckled and said, "Well, there's Carol's for food. And the Ninth Circle, but I don't like it there." Tulip froze, her eyes looking at Charon, terrified. If Charon heard, he gave no sign of interest. Tulip cautiously continued, "Mostly we give our caps to Quinn to trade whenever he goes out."

"Well, I hope that helps," Sarah chirped. "We best be going. Bye, Tulip. See you around! Let me know if you get any more weapons like that!" As Sarah turned and walked out, Charon silently followed along.

***

Charon saw that, as soon as they walked out into the main hallway of Underworld, everyone stopped to stare at them. Apparently news of Ahzrukhal's death had travelled quickly in the small community. People stood, gathered in the halls, whispering amongst themselves. They were too afraid to confront Charon directly, or his new employer for that matter. They walked through the deathly silent hallway and out the door. Other than the occasional snarl, Charon ignored everyone staring. Until further orders were given, he would follow training protocols. He was used to new employers, though not ones so young. He noted that she had a lot of caps to spend, which was unusual, but Charon didn't really care one way or the other. That wasn't part of the contract. 

"You ready?" she asked. Charon curtly nodded. "Alright, let's go," she replied, already walking towards the door. Charon fell in line behind her.

 


	2. In the Talon’s Grasp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to look at how the two characters look at the world. *** means that not only is there a paragraph break, but that the perspective is changing from one character to another. Sometimes these perspective changes might be long and sometimes they might be only a few sentences. It really depends on what the character has to say. A lot happens in this chapter so enjoy the ride!

The first day out in the Wastes with his new employer. He had worked for Ahzrukhal for almost 30 years, Charon realized. It hadn’t seemed that long, but time seemed to pass quickly in Underworld, and Charon guessed that it did for people who didn’t really age. It slipped through the fingers, eventually, blurring and distorting memories you thought you’d never forget.

They were walking through the ruins of The Mall, his employer leading the way, albeit slowly. The ground all around them was laced with trenches and pits, like veins carved into the earth. He watched as his employer carefully navigated around them. He felt anxious. New employers were always mysterious to him, and all had their own idiosyncrasies. He kept waiting for her to give him an order, afraid of making a mistake, but as far she had been quiet. Charon had figured out the best way to keep his employers happy was to figure out how they worked and what they wanted quickly, and be ready to do it when or even before they asked. It didn’t always save him, but it was better than in the beginning when he still tried to fight it. There was no fighting it and Charon had quickly moved past the idea that he could.

They had left Underworld later than he would’ve liked. At night, animals and super mutants prowled the ruins. He rubbed his eyes, doing nothing to get out the dusty grit that thinly filmed everything in the Wasteland. It was a common enough joke in Underworld that he didn’t need sleep, but that was a lie. He never got more than a few hours, but he didn’t really do much but stand in the corner of Ahzrukhal’s bar anyways. Ahzrukhal ran him on a tight schedule, like a dog. He ate when he was told, he slept when he was told, and he exercised when he was told. Charon always thought it was odd that Ahzrukhal made him stay fit, but the paranoid bartender was always concerned about how other people perceived him, and Charon’s entire purpose was to scare the hell out of people, so it made sense in a way. He had been fallowing his new employer on autopilot while he drifted into his own thoughts, and when she suddenly stopped, Charon skidded to a stop behind her. She was bent over and panting, a pained expression on her face. He had gathered quite quickly from her movements that she was injured, but that wasn’t his concern; keeping her alive was. The shadows of the buildings were almost nonexistent against the increasingly dark ground. This was not somewhere Charon wanted to be at night. 

She looked around desperately, her eyes settling on a subway tunnel. She practically dragged herself to it, before taking the stairs one at a time. The subway was surprisingly empty, and Charon didn’t even hear the hissing sound of ferals that he hated so much. The subway was similar in structure and look to every other subway Charon had been in since the fallout. Papers were scattered across the floor, their words long since faded. Grime and stains painted the hallway, a variety of colors and textures, with some general trash thrown randomly about for good measure. There was always a dank, rotting odor in subways that clogged his nose and seeped into his skin, like a disease. 

His employer continued walking, clutching her arm between pale, tensed fingers. A thin sheen of sweat coated her face, and her large eyes sunk in above two blue crescent moons of baggy flesh.  _She looks like shit._ She hobbled like she knew where she was going, passing dead ferals, raiders, and the occasional dog. They arrived in an average-sized room with a cluster of dead mutts, a stain-covered mattress on the floor, and a first-aid box that looked like it had been pilfered through. A barrel’s contents burned lowly, and his employer scooped up a few armfuls of scattered paper, tossing them in. The flames spiked in response, crackling. Her bags dropped to the ground, and she gently lowered herself to the mattress, wincing. 

“I’m beat,” she sighed, her good arm thrown over her face. “There’s food and water in my bag. Help yourself,” she said tiredly, and Charon’s eyes trailed over to her bag. He didn’t want to take too much, to be too impudent, so he took a single bottle of water and two Mirelurk Cakes that had been wrapped carefully in cloth. It would be enough. 

She slept through the night, into late afternoon. Charon sat in the corner, near the fire, falling into the same blank watchfulness he did so frequently. He was still aware, and deadly accurate if it came to it, but without the thoughts that often accompanied long silences. He had learned a long time ago how to drown those out. He ignored his employer sleeping in the corner completely. When they were sleeping they couldn’t order him around, couldn’t make him hurt other people. With the first few employers he had had the misfortune of working for, his brain had worked overtime trying to think of all the terrible things they could order him to do, but his mind hadn’t been able to keep up with the reality of the Wastes. Soon he had stopped trying to guess, stopping trying to think, stopped trying to care. 

When she woke up, her eyes flicked to him and a look of terror washed over her face. She scrambled back, as if she had forgotten who he was, and hissed as she balanced herself using her injured shoulder. Charon made no motion or comment towards her, instead watching her calmly. After just a few seconds, a realization of familiarity disarmed her, leaving her looking rather embarrassed. She rubbed the back of her head.

”Sorry,” she stammered sheepishly. “I’ve always been on my own out here, and usually when I wake up and someone is that close to me, they want to kill me or worse.”

Charon didn’t have to ask what “or worse” meant. He had seen many women choose to die rather than be raped. He didn’t acknowledge her apology. In fact he found it strange. She didn’t seem to fear him, or other ghouls for that matter, which was strange as well. She was the youngest employer he had ever had, he noticed. Sleep had taken much of the haggardness out of her face, but there was still the trace of exhaustion and pain twisting her features. 

She sighed, grabbing a bottle of water and a box of Potato Crisps out of one of her bags before slinging it on her shoulder. She wheezed as it landed on her back, crumpling a little from the pain. Before she could grab the other bag, Charon pulled it onto his own back. It wasn’t terribly heavy, and the only thing Charon had been carrying before was the armor on his back and the spare gun she had given him. He was surprised she hadn’t ordered him to carry all of it, especially considering she was injured. Healthy employers frequently used him as a pack mule, and Charon had become accustomed to carrying large loads across the barren landscape, but she had seemed willing to carry everything on her own. She confused Charon, and at over 200 years it was a rare enough feeling.

It confused Charon more when she smiled brightly at him, her face relaxing. He looked away, avoiding her. She led the way through the tunnels, stopping every hour for her to rest. If he was by himself, he would have already had time to jog to Megaton and jog back by the time she decided to stop for the night.

Tonight’s camp was a raider den that had been cleared out. The typical spiked heads and hooked bodies dangled over them. Raiders were mostly one trick ponies. There were only so many bodies that Charon could see dangling from the ceiling and still be impressed. That number was about three. It didn’t even make much sense. It rotted quickly, making your home smell like putrid meat, and attracted flies that buzzed around incessantly, not to mention the fact that they had to be replaced every few months or it would just be a skeleton hanging from hooks, which, apparently to raiders, just wasn’t scary enough. He leaned back, his gun in hand. He hoped they would make it above surface tomorrow. He hated being underground. 

***

 

It had taken them nearly a week to get out of D.C and cross the river. The days were getting longer and hotter, and Sarah moved slowly because of her shoulder. The path through the subway had still been clear from where she had passed through on her way into the city, so she wasn’t too concerned about enemies, though she noticed that Charon had remained vigilant at all times. She cringed at herself when she remembered how she had reacted towards him that first morning, like a coward. Sarah tried to keep up a steady pace, but her shoulder bothered her more than she wanted to admit, and she stopped frequently to avoid completely exhausting herself.

Still, she had slept more than she had actually walked on the trip, slowing them down considerably. Charon hardly spoke during the trip, actually she wasn’t sure if he did speak, and Sarah was rarely in a mood to utter more than a few sentences. He had offered to care her bag for her, which was nice of him, although she worried it was because she was moving slowly enough without more weight added on. The last mile to Megaton seemed to be the worst, mainly because she knew she was so close. 

Sarah waved to Stockholm, who stood watch above the gates of Megaton, with her good arm as she walked underneath the gates. Luckily, it was late, so she wouldn’t have to answer a bunch of questions about who was with her. During the day, people swarmed around Megaton, but at night mostly people stayed home. The Wasteland was a dangerous place at night, sometimes even in a town like Megaton. Sarah knew that as soon as Stockholm was off, everyone in town would know she had brought a man home. Stockholm was a worse gossip than all the women in town put together, and nothing came into this town without him knowing. She was convinced that sometimes he used his scope to spy on people inside Megaton, but he had denied it vehemently when she brought it up. Sarah slipped through the back way into her house with Charon following.

***

“Welcome home, ma’am.” Charon heard from behind him, and in a flash his gun was pointed at a Mr. Handy robot. 

“Whoa, whoa, that’s just Wadsworth. He’s cool, I promise,” she assured him, resting her hand on Charon’s gun. He lowered it, warily. He didn’t look away from the robot until it had puttered a safe enough distance away. 

Charon then looked around his employer’s house and noted the unique décor. It looked like something from before the war and - was that a tricycle? A well-worn rug and two chairs decorated the living room, and to his left, he noted with disdain, was a coatrack.  _She went to all of the trouble to find one of those things?_   Boxes of food lined the shelves, neat and orderly.

Usually his employers had been quick to assign orders, but as of yet, she had issued none. He stood awkwardly by the door, unsure of where his place was here. He felt conflicted; everything was so familiar, but it had been so long ago that it didn’t seem to fit with him anymore. He wasn’t that person anymore. She was still holding her arm oddly as she walked around the room, but she had never volunteered any information and he had never asked. As of yet, he was unable to assess her skills in battle. He had worked for all types, from vicious killers, to small, cruel men that couldn’t do anything themselves, but took too much pleasure in watching Charon work. But she was an enigma, defying what he had come to expect from his employers. He was always observant, but he knew nothing about who his new employer really was.

She suddenly yelled from the kitchen. “Do you want anything? Maybe a Nuka-Cola or some pre-war food?” Peeking her head around the corner she watched as Charon shrugged. She tossed him a cold bottle of soda, and then a moment later a can of Pork N’ Beans. “I’m starving, so I’m making some food. Make yourself at home; your room is on the right up the stairs. There’s only a couch there now, but first thing tomorrow I’ll head to Moira’s and get you a bed and a desk. The couch can be moved downstairs. I hate these chairs anyways.” It was such a casual conversation about nothing that it made Charon’s head spin.

He made his way upstairs and noted a jukebox and a medic unit on the breezeway that wrapped around her living room like an observation deck. There were two doors, both open, and he peaked into her room. There was a desk with an old premium bottle of scotch made when there was an actual Scotland for it to be made in. It was pushed to the side on her desk and a delicate blue ribbon was tied around the neck in a neat bow. There was a disassembled 10mm pistol in the center, jumbled into pieces, like someone couldn’t get them back together. A soft blue-grey blanket was tossed unceremoniously on her rather large bed, exposing dingy cream sheets. He had hoped that a look in her room would tell him something, but it hadn’t. 

He unpacked his gear, and stripped off his armor, before sitting down on the couch and cleaning his combat shotgun. He had owned this gun longer than he could remember. Standard issue; only slight modifications had been made to the weapon. He preferred the reliability of a manufacturer’s model. From downstairs he could hear her moving in the kitchen as she began to hum loudly, and sometimes off-key. It sounded like something from the radio. When he had finished cleaning his weapon, he cleaned his armor, buffing it until the metal shone. Once that was done, he walked downstairs.

When he rounded the corner the smoothskin was leaning over into the fridge. She had changed into a thin, grey tank top and a pair of Brahmin pants that had been cut off at the knees. For the first time Charon allowed himself to thoroughly inspect his new employer. She was short, with dark brown mussed hair that she had tied back as soon as she got home. Her arms and legs were toned and a large scar sliced its way across her calf. A large discolored bruise expanded from beneath her shirt and made its way down her shoulder.  _That must’ve happened recently_ , he thought. Charon stood in the corner of the room watching the smoothskin until she had finished cooking. While she wasn't fat, she had the full cheeks and healthy glow of someone who ate regularly.  _The Wasteland hasn't stripped her bare, yet._

***

“Don’t you want to sit with me?” she asked, cocking her head. She had sat on one of the chairs, but Charon remained standing stiffly in the corner. Silently, he sat down in the other. Sarah nervously bit her lip until she found the courage to speak. “Charon,” she said softly. “I know that you’ve had a difficult life, and I can’t begin to imagine what that was like for you. But I bought your contract from Ahzrukhal because I couldn’t stand the thought of someone as disgusting as him practically owning another person. I don’t believe in slavery. I want people to be as happy as they can be in this shithole world. I didn’t buy your contract so that you would work for me. I bought it so that I could give it to you. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want, or until you figure out what you want to do.” Charon looked at her apprehensively, as if waiting for the punch line to a bad joke. Sarah just sat there, waiting for a response. She wiggled her toes absentmindedly.

“I am sorry to disappoint you Smoothskin, but that isn’t how my contract works. I cannot own my contract.”

Sarah slowly looked up, horrified. “You mean you have no choice?” she shrieked.

“I belong to no one. You are my employer and I will serve you, but you do not own me. You own my contract,” Charon corrected.

Sarah stammered, “Of course, I never meant… Oh, I’m sorry. There must be a way out of this. Let me read the damn thing.” Sarah fished around in her bag until she found the paper. “To Whomever holds this contract holds the services of one male ghoul, identified as Charon. Physical abuse is to be considered Breach of Contract. If this term is breached knowledgably by employer, employee maintains the right to terminate. Once terminated, employee will seek new employment. Aforementioned employee may not take possession of his contract through any means including: killing, stealing, and/or willful receiving from the employer. If in any case this contract is destroyed employee is to immediately self-terminate. Contract is only valid though possession.” Sarah finished reading and stared at the document, her fingers tracing over the words. “Charon, is this written in…blood?”

Charon’s eyes turned dark, “Yes,” he replied. “Mine.” Without saying another word, he got up and went to his room, leaving Sarah to eat her meal alone. It was warm and filling, but it did nothing to make her feel any better.

That night Sarah got into bed, gingerly touching her shoulder. It would be healed in another week or two, but she didn’t have a week. Her father was out there now. Drifting off to sleep, the pain in her shoulder waned the deeper she fell. The next thing she knew, a hand was pressed down over her mouth and a man was sitting on her legs. Something pulled her hands up over her head. The sound of her screaming was so muffled she knew no one would hear.

“No no no, sweetheart. There’ll be none of that,” the man sitting on Sarah’s legs said quietly. He was big, with dark hair and eyes, his skin weathered by the sun. He traced a knife down her neck and chest, pausing at her navel. “Now, I’m sure you know who we are, don’t you sugar?” Sarah shook her head and the man chuckled. “Well, allow us to introduce ourselves. We are with Talon Company. We go out and people pay us to do the jobs none of the other mercenaries will do. And someone really wants you dead,” the man grinned sadistically. “Now love, you're gonna die, but I see no reason that the boys and I can’t have our fun. Right boys?” the man asked, looking at his comrades. The other men nodded eagerly. The man stroked the knife along her face, drawing a thin line of blood. “It’s been a long time since we had someone so pretty to have fun with."

The third man, tall with a scraggly beard, picked up the shirt Sarah had been wearing earlier and handed it to what she assumed was the leader. He shoved it into Sarah’s mouth and began slicing her shirt, exposing her breasts to the men. She began to struggle, but a knife to her throat made her freeze. “Move again, and I’ll slice off an ear,” the man threatened. He continued slicing away until there was nothing left but her underwear. The man with the beard began groping her breasts, and despite her best efforts, Sarah began to cry, which only made the men laugh. She had never even kissed a boy, and the terror of the unknown things they were going to do to her make her heart pound in her ears, almost deafening her. The man holding her hands leaned down from above her and licked her tears away from her cheeks. His breath smelled like rotten meat and Sarah gagged. The leader had cut away her underwear and was fondling her as she tried to keep her legs clenched shut.

Slowly, the door creaked open, but the men were so preoccupied that they didn't hear. A rapid succession of three quick pops made her jump, but the three men were slumped over, a single shot to the forehead for each of them. Sarah crawled to the edge of the bed against the wall, cradling herself as she cried. Charon pushed open the door completely; in his hands was the silenced sniper rifle that she had purchased from Tulip. Her arms were clenched tightly against her chest, with her knees drawn up. 

Charon picked up two of the men and threw them down the stairs. Once he had done the same with the third he came back and sat on the opposite edge of the bed. Sarah whimpered, “Thank you Charon. I-I don’t know what would’ve happened without you.”

Charon muttered, “It’s in the contract…”

Sarah touched his arm, “Still, thank you.” She tried to smile at him through her tears, but she didn't know if it came across. “Um, I know this is asking a lot, but will you stay in my room tonight? I don’t think I can sleep alone.”

_***_

Charon nodded and sat down in the chair by her desk. He closed his eyes while his employer put on new clothing, although he glimpsed a sight of her thigh as she got off of the bed.

 _Get ahold of yourself, you haven’t been that long without,_  Charon thought to himself. That one night that Ahzrukhal had let him off, Greta had made him an offer that couldn’t be politely refused. But that had been years ago. Ahzrukhal did not give many days off. Sex wasn't part of the contract thankfully, especially considering most of his employers had been men. They all blended together after awhile, although the particularly bad ones always stayed seeped in his mind. It was like a picture slide, horrible image following horrible acts, stretching over his eyelids. 

When he heard her slide back into bed, he opened his eyes and her back was towards him, with her arms wrapped tightly around herself. He could see her body trembling, an occasional silent sob wracking her body. As much as he tried to make himself believe it, he wasn’t heartless.  But there was nothing that he could think of to say, and even if there was, she most likely didn’t want to hear it from him. 

Once she was asleep and her breathing was regular, Charon allowed himself to look at the smoothskin. Wisps of her dark brown hair framed a heart shaped face. Her mouth was full and her cheeks were round. A cut ran along the side, a drop of dried blood in the corner.  _How old is this girl_? Charon wondered.  _She can’t be more than 20 years old_. Sighing, he leaned forward, tracing his thumb along her cheek, stopping at the cut. Her skin was smooth, unlike his. He looked at his hand, gnarled and rough, with jagged patches missing. He put his hand back on his gun, watching the door. This was easy for him, slipping into an autopilot of sorts. The hours passed quickly, although he would occasionally steal a glance to the sleeping girl beside him, checking to make sure that his employer was safe. 


	3. The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I'd go ahead and post another chapter. I really enjoyed writing this one. Writing Moira was a blast! Hope you enjoy!

When Sarah woke up the next day, she opened her eyes to see Charon sitting in the exact same position as last night, still intently watching the door. During their trip home, she had been in too much pain to really look at him closely, but now she was curious. Some of his hair was gone; red patches here and there were all that remained. His skin was ridged with rises and falls, like a topography map. It looked leathery, and sections of corded muscles showed through were other skin had fallen off. She wasn’t sure, but it looked like some sort of epithelium covered the muscles to protect them. I’ll ask dad, she thought, when I find him.

When she had been chosen as a medical doctor by the G.O.A.T her father had been so proud, although he assured her that he would've been proud of her no matter what. She didn't believe that, and told him as much, but it took years to learn the medical field. The longer she was out in the Wasteland, the more knowledge she felt slip away. She couldn’t study, or consult a textbook; all she had was herself, and her brain was constantly storing information in terms of importance. Instead of being able to recite the bones in the hand, she could now dress a field wound using a duct tape and a teddy bear. Both useful, but hardly equivalent.

Charon's face was much the same as the rest of his body. Sarah could tell that he had once been a handsome man. He's still handsome, for a ghoul, she thought. His eyes were milky white swirled with a steel blue that sent a chill up her spine. Her eyes trailed down to his chest. In his armor he seemed large, but now, seeing him in a faded black t-shirt, she could see how defined his muscles really were. Most of the skin under his shirt looked intact, although it was hard to tell for certain. As she scanned over Charon again she noted just how tall he really was, over six-feet. His legs were stretched out, seemingly relaxed, in front of him, but Sarah doubted he ever actually relaxed. She was still intently looking over his hardened stomach when he lightly cleared his throat. Sarah’s eyes flew upwards and her stomach dropped when she realized that he had been watching her examine him.

***

Charon had just looked over to check on his employer, when he realized she was awake, and staring at him. She was examining his body, most likely because she had never gotten the chance to inspect a ghoul up close before. Slightly disgusted with himself, he cleared his throat. The look of surprise of her face was satisfying. “I see you are awake,” he said flatly. She nodded once, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. He could see her body change when she remembered what had happened last night. Her face went pale and her eyes widened as she looked towards the door, shaking.

“Are-are they, I mean them. Did you…” she trailed off, her voice breaking.

“They are downstairs. If you wish, I will dispose of them immediately." It was one of the cruel facts about being a woman in the Wastelands: rape was frequent for the young and old alike. Charon supposed it was somewhat common for men as well, but he had seen so many women. The people who bought contracts like his weren't typically the type to turn their nose up at some tail, willing or not. Charon's contract didn't require him to participate, but capturing them was another story. He tried not to think about their screams, about the one that slit her throat in the bathroom. She was probably still there. The thought made Charon cold. These thoughts were useless. Then why do you think about it so much, a little voice whispered. 

“If you don’t mind. Thank you, Charon. I don't think I can look at them,” the smoothskin said, with a ghost of a smile. The expression didn’t touch her eyes and he could still see the vulnerability. As he turned to leave, she got out of bed and began dressing herself.

Charon was about to leave when his employer flew around the stairs, clutching the railing. She had a wild look in her eyes and, before he could say anything, she began shouting, “Wadsworth! Charon, where is Wadsworth?” She looked around, frantically. Charon had almost forgotten about the three-armed bucket of metal. The robot was slumped up against the wall, and she immediately ran over to the thing. After rolling up her sleeves, she unscrewed the back plate to access his mainframe. After a couple of minutes she pulled out a brick-sized piece of metal. Charon had never needed to have much mechanical ability, and as such his knowledge was little. 

“Looks like they shot his sensor module. Not a difficult replacement, thankfully,” she choked out, happily. Wiping a tear away, she turned to Charon and explained shyly,

“Since Dad left I’ve been pretty much by myself. Wadsworth has been one of my only real friends out here. I know he’s just a robot, but he tells me jokes and is always happy to see me…”

Charon understood loneliness, although taking companionship in a robot was beyond him. He eventually grunted, “At least you’re good with machines.”

She smiled at him, and her eyes lit up. “Yeah, I guess I am. I’m gonna go to Moira’s and see if she’s got a replacement sensor module in that hoarder’s nest of hers. You can come if you want.” 

Without a second thought she was out the door, trotting through Megaton. Charon looked down at the bodies and weighed his options. The mercs can wait, he decided, loping after her. His contract had subtleties that had been forged into him like hardened steel. Above all, keeping the employer safe was of the highest priority. Finding another employer after one died was… unpleasant, to put it mildly, and although Charon figured Megaton was safe enough, leaving her so soon after an attack like that left his head pounding , but the nausea was always the worst part. Headaches, numb fingers, chills, he could all deal with, but the nausea always hit him like waves in the ocean.

He caught up to her outside a building with Craterside Supply painted onto the walls. A large airplane decorated the roof, with the word "Supply" in big letters staked on top. Walking through the door, even Charon was amazed at the variety and quantity of items in the shop. They seemed to be stuffed into every nook and cranny, with junk even overflowing onto the floor. A mousy woman in a Rob-Co jumpsuit smiled brightly as soon as she saw them walk through the door.

“There’s my super-assistant! What’s up?” the woman, presumably Moira, chattered. She reminded him of a squirrel, collecting her hoard, running this way and that without focusing on anything for more than a few seconds.   
His employer rather sheepishly, shrugged her shoulders and rubbed the back of her neck absentmindedly. “Well, I really just need a sensor module and then I’ve gotta go,” she mumbled halfheartedly.

“Sure, I’ve got one around here somewhere…Hmm…Dootdeedo… Where did I put you…” Moira said, mainly to herself. “Oh!” she shouted, startling everyone. “Did you know that the human body can live without a stomach or spleen? I need to run some tests though… Wait, what was I looking for?” Moira asked, looking around.

Looking exasperated, the smoothskin began looking for the item herself while Moira hopped up on the counter and began telling her about Centaurs and ways of testing their intelligence.

Waiting patiently, Charon noticed a man standing in the corner. Making eye contact, the two men nodded to one another. They recognized each other for what they were, and left it at that.

Finally, Sarah pulled out a sensor module out of a box titled ‘Med Supplies,’ and sighed with relief. After telling Moira she needed a bed and desk put in the spare room and the couch moved downstairs, she paid for all of it and exited Craterside Supply, rubbing her temples.  
Slightly embarrassed, she stammered, “Moira is a really sweet person and I love her, but she kills me sometimes. Between her and that damn book...” She trailed off. “Oh, I guess you wouldn’t know about that,” she clarified. “ I’m helping her create… The Wasteland Survival Guide,” she said, dramatically placing her hands on her hips, eyes to the sky. She laughed, “At least, that’s what the plan is .”

 

 


	4. The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Once they made their way back to her house, Charon wordlessly grabbed the bodies piled at the bottom of the stairs and took them outside. Meanwhile, Sarah went over to Wadsworth and felt around, locating the connection wires for the new sensor module. After fiddling around for a moment, Wadsworth’s lights came on and he floated up, his exhausts puttering. “Wadsworth,” she cried, throwing herself onto the robot.

Patting her back with one of his arms, the robot said happily, “It’s good to see you alive and well, madam.”

”It’s good to see you alive and well too, Wadsworth,” she laughed happily.

Now Sarah had a score to settle. After pounding on Lucas Simms' door for nearly ten minutes, his son opened the door, still sleepy-eyed, and told Sarah to check the Brass Lantern, the local tavern. On her way she ran into several residents, all giving her knowing smirks. Apparently Stockholm had just gotten off duty, she sighed to herself.

Once her eyes had adjusted to the dim light of the Brass Lantern, Sarah sought out Simms. “Lucas, we need to talk, now,” she said curtly. He was sitting in the corner, eating, his ever-present hat slung over his eyes. Sarah felt like he took the old west sheriff theme a little far sometimes, but who was she to judge? Simms shoved the last of his breakfast, some Dandy Boy Apples, into his mouth and stood, adjusting the lapel of his coat. He followed her past Craterside, back to her house. “These fuckers broke into my house Simms. They passed your guards, came into my house and tried to rape me and assassinate me,” she roared. “I want justice. I want vengeance. I want who ever hired them dead. Do you hear me, Simms?” she questioned as he looked over her bedroom silently.

“Why aren’t you dead?” Sheriff Simms asked curiously, avoiding the girl’s anger. “You said there were three of them, and you were unarmed and ambushed. Why aren’t you dead?”

Sarah stammered, “Well, I have a friend staying in the room next to mine. He heard the commotion.”

“I’d keep him around if I were you, 101. He might be your rabbit’s foot,” Simms chuckled. At Sarah’s insistence, Simms had agreed to hire a second shift of guards for the city, meaning two people would be on duty at all times.

*** 

Charon received no end of odd looks, carrying two dead bodies and dragging a third out of Megaton. He assumed that ghouls weren’t seen that often around Megaton, but honestly, he didn’t give a fuck. He was used to odd looks. The corpses had been stripped of their armor and looted for any valuables outside of the house. He walked them around back of Megaton outside its walls, dropping the bodies off for a pack of dogs that seemed to be denned nearby. The air was crisp and his employer had not specified how quickly he was to return, so he took his time, sitting on a large boulder. He could still see the dogs off in the distance. It looked like they were playing tug of war with a femur. They were enjoying the meal Charon provided them. He enjoyed time like this, quiet and alone. No orders to receive. Sometimes it almost felt like he was his own person again. 

The rockface bit into his thigh and when he shifted his weight a rock came loose under his foot. Sticking out from the boulder was a piece of paper. Looking closer, Charon noticed a sniper rifle and some other items hidden in the hollowed out rock. It had just caught Charon’s eye when he felt something poking into his back. From experience, he could tell someone had a gun pointed straight at his spine.

“Well, lookie here, someone’s trying to take my shit,” the man chuckled. “Name’s Sam, Sam Warrick. I’d ask your name, but you’re about to die.”

Turning suddenly, Charon twisted the gun out of the man's hands. Long range weapons are just that, long range. When used up close they become a liability. The raider lunged, trying to grab his gun back and the two tumbled to the ground. The raider was middle-aged, with a stupid greasy goatee dangling below his lips. Warrick ended up on his back and rough fingers found his eyes, pressing in until they were gouged out of his skull. There was always a satisfying pop, when the pressure inside the eye grew to be too much. They never popped together, and in Charon’s experience, the right one usually was the first.  _A morbid enough fact,_ Charon thought. The man screeched and wailed, but Charon would not relent. The now desperate raider struggled against Charon, scratching uselessly at his armored chest as blood splashed onto the dry dirt beneath him. Their fighting had stirred up dust and Charon's mouth was full of grit. He spat on the ground, watching as the man lay writhing, clutching his face.

 

The supplies from the rock were collected before a whistle rang out alerting the dogs that had been gnawing on the dead Talon Company. Their muzzles were coated in blood and gore, but they were far from satisfied. There was no satisfaction in the Wastes and the now-blind raider had nowhere to run. Ten minutes later, the only pieces left of Sam Warrick were bits of the leather armor he wore. Charon didn't really care. It was eat or be eaten out in the Wastes, and Charon wasn't about to be eaten. 

 

As he approached his employer's house, the door opened, and out walked a large man with dark skin, causing Charon to narrow his eyes. The man was tall, though not as tall as him, with a Sheriff’s badge and laser rifle slung over his back. His cowboy hat was straight out of a pre-war western and Charon knew he did it just to look cool. The way the man carried himself said that he was experienced in the Wastes, but he was older, and older meant slower. Before he could draw however, his employer stepped out from behind the man and Charon relaxed slightly.  _She is safe._

*** 

“Charon,” Sarah paused, noting his hand reaching for his shotgun, "this is Sheriff Simms. He’s a good friend. We were discussing city security.” She had conveniently left out the fact that her new companion was a ghoul, but she also knew that Simms was too polite to comment. Charon mumbled under his breath and lowered his hands from his gun.

Simms’s eyes lingered on the ghoul for a moment before glancing back to Sarah and raising an eyebrow. She ignored his silent question, and so Simms went on his way, tipping his hat to them both. Once they were inside, the gear that had been collected was laid out on the floor. Charon sat on the couch watching her while she sorted through it.  While holding the Talon Company Armor, a gleam flashed into her eyes. Looking to Charon, a deathly smile came over her lips and she giggled, "I think I have an .”


	5. Keep Your Hands Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff ahead. Enjoy!

I don't like this, Charon thought as he laid in bed. He had spent the evening packing his bag, which was difficult considering his employer had said little about where they were headed. But it had taken three days to get all of the "supplies" needed for the excursion, as she called it. They were set to head out to in the morning. He would find out then. Besides, it wasn’t really his job to ask questions. He rolled over in the bed, facing the wall. It was a mishmashed collection of metal sheets that blended together at all angles. He fell asleep following the rough hewn lines of the wall. 

The next morning, his employer was abnormally quiet. Charon wasn't sure if this is how she acted in the Wastes or she was nervous. Reading employers had always been easy enough to figure out in terms of what they wanted from him, but in terms of thoughts and feelings he very rarely cared. He had a suspicion that she was mostly driven by her feelings, giving Charon a distinct disadvantage.

They slipped out of Megaton at dawn and made their way east. By the afternoon they had covered seven miles and Charon could tell that they were getting close. He could see how tense her body was, and he gripped his gun a little tighter, not knowing what to expect.   
Once they reached the outskirts of the Capital, she suddenly stopped. Dupont Station was nearby, which could take them anywhere. He was so wrapped up in trying to guess her next move that he almost didn’t hear her speak.

“We need to talk,” she said anxiously.  
Stoically, Charon nodded. “If that is what you wish." His pack slipped off of his shoulder, landing on a rock. He sat down next to it, the dust settling in a thin layer on everything within reach. He wiped his face with his undershirt, leaving a streak of brown on the black material.

“Well, um, I know I’ve been keeping you in the dark about where we’re going,” she admitted, lowering her eyes to the dirt. She kicked a rock with her boot. “Truth is, I’ve been embarrassed…I’ve asked around about a guy I know that has the information I need. The problem is he’s… eclectic. I’ve tried everything I can think of to get him to talk to me. Every time I go in there with my armor on he says I have no personality.” She paused, looking at him trying to read his face. “Nova recommended something to me and I want to give it a try."

“Who is Nova?” Charon asked, warily. His stomach fell as his suspicions were confirmed.

“She’s, well, uh… an entertainer. Yeah, an entertainer,” the smoothskin offered, obviously pleased with her vague answer.  
He knew what kind of entertainer Nova was. “I will follow your lead,” Charon responded, not liking where this was headed. He had accepted his near constant celibacy, but he had limits .

***

Sarah peeked around the boulder. Charon hadn’t moved. With his back to her, she walked around, stuffing her armor into her bag. My old vault suit came in handy, she thought, if only in a slightly nauseating way . “Charon, you know the plan, right? I need you to forge ahead, clearing out any major enemies. I have no protection like this,” she said, motioning to the vault suit. “Once we get to the point I indicated on the map, we will holster our weapons. Charon, that’s really important,” Sarah emphasized. He grunted in return, which she took for assent. She steadied her breathing, trying to ease her nerves while Charon picked up his pack, trotting towards the Capital. After counting to 30, she set off behind him.  
Following behind Charon is like taking a walk through the Vault. Other than that a single molerat that came from the west, he had warded off a group of raiders and a mirelurk without Sarah having to lift a finger. It was almost… boring. Wishing she had killed at least one of the raiders; she arrived soon after Charon at the barricade. Engraved in the side, a warning read, ‘Keep your guns holstered or get shot.’  
Paranoid old bastard, Sarah thought, dreading this encounter. Resigned, she stepped to the side and began unzipping her vault suit.

***

Charon tried to look away, he really did. But his eyes were glued to the torturously low opening of her vault suit that came ever lower with each second. His employer’s vault suit, he reminded himself. Only when she looked at him did Charon look away nonchalantly. Preparing himself for when she was finished, he recited his contract to himself. It was muscle memory , slipping into his shell. It was the only way he had managed to stay sane. Nothing mattered, no emotions, no thoughts. Only the contract.  
When she was done, Charon saw her swallow some pills she took out of her bag. After that, it was like the girl in front of him had transformed into another person. The thin nightwear clung to her body, hiding very little. The bruise on her shoulder was still a vivid purple though the edges were beginning to fade to green. Surprisingly, it did nothing to detract from her beauty. Her lips seemed more full, and her body more languid. Her eyes, sultry and dark, were trying to draw him in, and her skin had a faint, glowing flush that promised softness and warmth. The corner of her jaw slid down to her neck, ending at the hollow of her collar bone, which was bruised like her shoulder. Charon imagined trailing his mouth down the path his eyes had just taken. Charon looked away, his atypical reaction bothering him. It was always other people looking away first. Trying to ignore the way her skin flushed, he nodded towards the door. This is my personal hell, Charon thought as he watched her hips sway under the thin material. Growling, he picked up the bag and followed her inside.

  
***

Sarah felt powerful. She saw the way Charon looked at her, and knew if it worked with him, it would be a piece of cake with Dukov. Nova had told her that men were simple this way, and although Sarah hadn't at first, she was starting to become a believer. She didn’t think she would, but she had enjoyed Charon looking at her. She felt powerful, attractive, desirable. She blushed at the thought. It wasn’t like she got the opportunity to look nice out in the Wastes. It had actually taken a few days for Nova to get her the right size “nightwear” as Nova called it. She tried to lend hers, but they had been different sizes in the chest area, and while she wanted Dukov to talk, Sarah wasn't willing to walk into his place nipples out. This was bad enough as it was, and she constantly felt the nagging urge to cover herself. Walking through the doors, she breathed deeply and calmly entered the main room. This den of debauchery, as her father would call it, was littered with empty and full bottles of alcohol, with a large obscene light fixture of two people ... hanging over a filthy, stained bed. She smiled sweetly as the shit stain named Dukov walked down the stairs. The pleasant feeling from Charon looking at her disappeared as soon as the fat, bald man's eyes roamed over her. 

“Oh, baby! Let me get you something special. How about a Dukov surprise? Hah ha!” the man laughed.

“Dukie, don’t you remember me?” Sarah asked coyly. “And I thought we had something special,” she whined. 

"Well I'll be fucked!” It's the Vault Bitch from 101. Maybe I need to buy a space inside your vault, eh, sweet cheeks,” Dukov leered. Just then, he noticed all six feet of Charon behind her, and his jaw clenched, looking all at once very nervous, like a small animal trapped in his den. “Who’s the stiff, doll? Don’t tell me you got yourself a man- a ghoul, for that matter.”

“Oh, Dukov,” Sarah giggled, a strap of her nightie falling, "that’s Charon, we just travel together. Little ole' me couldn't make it in the Wastes by myself” Neither man nor ghoul missed the strap falling off of her shoulder, showing more of the pale breast hidden by lace and silk. 

Dukov moved closer. “You've got a smokin' bod, Sugar Pie. How about letting old Dukov rock you to sleep, if you know what I mean?”  
She lowered her lashes. “I would love to take you up on that, but I have some questions I need to ask first," she huffed, trying to sound impatient for...other activities. The older man rested his hand on her shoulder, grinning. It felt like the Talon Company all over again, and she struggled to not bat away his hand. The light fixture above them glared at her, pulsing threateningly, and she struggled to keep a smile on her face. 

Dukov lapped it up. “Sure, baby! Whatever questions you got, Dukov’s got the answer,” he smiled. “Cherry, Fantasia, get your sugar-coated asses down here and get us some fucking booze,” he yelled, and two women walked downstairs, both wearing scant nothing, just like Sarah. She didn’t judge them, it was their choice, but personally it made her feel cheap and grimy. 

***

Charon tried to ignore the silhouette of her ass through the thin material, but the way the light hit it left very little to Charon's imagination. He tried to ignore the way this Dukov's hand slid down her back, settling at the end. If she was willing, there was nothing Charon could do, but he did not relish the thought of him taking her upstairs while Charon listened from below. It seemed wrong somehow, though Charon was too worked up to think about the why.

He snapped back to reality when Dukov slapped her ass roughly, and his employer yelped. Charon reached for his gun. His fingers had just brushed the barrel when a quick look from her told him no. He lowered his hand from behind his back, slowly. She gave him a small smile and went back to laughing at Dukov’s joke about something vulgar, Charon was sure. While they talked, Charon entertained himself by thinking about different ways he could kill the fleshy, pallid man.

At one point in the conversation, Dukov walked into the back room, leaving them alone for a moment. As soon as he was gone, his employer sank into her chair, and Charon could see just how difficult this was for her. Still, when the man came back into the room carrying several sheets of paper, she had straightened up and was licking her lips, looking every bit like the two girls that Dukov had living here. She was damned convincing, Charon had to give her that.

“Here’s what I have on them, Sugar Tits,” he nuzzled into her neck. “Now, how about we get down to the real business, your business?”

“Sure thing, I’ve got a special surprise for you” the smoothskin winked up at him. She grabbed a bottle out of her bag and took his hand, leading him upstairs. Charon stood near the main door, irritated. After five minutes, Charon watched as his employer ran down the stairs in her vault suit, clutching the sheets of paper. Grinning, she motioned towards the door, and he fell into line behind her.

Once outside, she shouted her happiness, letting her voice echo against the ruined buildings. They traveled quickly and as soon as they were back across the river, the smoothskin threw herself down on the coast. Charon stood next to her, looking down. She began furiously digging through her bag until she pulled out a bar of soap and a rag. Looking at him sheepishly, she mumbled something about needing to “be clean again.” Without a word, he turned around and began surveying the area for enemies. Soon, he heard splashing. Without provocation, she started talking to him.

“Dukov is the only merc I know that would’ve had any dealings with the Talon Company. Turns out he hates them too, and he has decent information about their base. Too bad Dukov’s special present was some laced whiskey I got from Nova. Said she uses it on really bad johns,” she admitted, then paused, realizing the mistake she made. “Well, I guess you might as well know,” the smoothskin yielded, as if he didn’t already know what she was going to say, “Nova is a prostitute. She’s really nice though! You’ll like her,” she said lightly. Charon didn't really like anyone, much less this mystery prostitute, but he didn't say as much. 

Over the next thirty minutes, she rambled about whatever entered her mind, without Charon saying a word. She told him about the soap, and how she made it herself by using rendered Brahmin fat and some Pre-war perfume she had found scavenging. "I think I have some cologne as well. I could make you some soap, although I don't know if ghouls use soap. I mean, I hope that wasn't offensive. I wasn't saying you smell, I was saying if it burns or something. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings," she blathered on, barely taking a break long enough to breathe. 

It was odd having an employer, much less a smoothskin, care about his feelings. I don't have feelings, he tried to tell himself. But even as he said it, he knew it wasn't true. By the time he had drifted from his own thoughts back to her voice, she was talking about her dad giving her a BB gun on her birthday.  
"If it wasn’t for that, I would’ve never handled a weapon before entering the Wastes. The only thing I ever shot down there was RadRoaches though. I never thought I'd be killing molerats, dogs, people," she said, and Charon felt some pity. He could understand that. He didn't think he'd be killing people either. 

***

Sarah sighed. She wasn’t really sure how many RadAway she had left, but was pretty sure it was gonna have to take all of them for this bath. It was so nice, though. The idea of seasons was still odd, but it had begun to get warmer, and the water was now tolerable, especially in the late afternoon. She never did this alone, but she felt safe with Charon watching over her. He was so quiet all the time, and she knew he was only with her because of the stupid contract, but she didn't want him to be miserable. She hoped by talking about herself maybe they could be friends. It was partially selfish; Sarah got so lonely out in the Wastes by herself. It would be nice to have a friend. He never said anything, and she hoped that he was even listening, although maybe not about the soap part. I could still make the soap though.

***

“Charon,” her voice carried softly over the water, “would you do something for me?” She paused, “Would you say my name? You've always called me Smoothskin or your employer.”

For a long time Sarah heard only silence. Charon debated on whether or not to acknowledge the girl. “Sarah,” his voice echoed across the water. Floating with her eyes closed, Sarah smiled. A small step, but a step nonetheless.

 


	6. The Saint and the Sinner

  
The sun was beginning to rise when Megaton came into view. Sarah was thankful. Soaking in the river had been nice, but her shoulder and collar bone were still tender and it would be nice to sleep in her own bed. Charon walked along behind her, expressionless as always. A blush tinted her cheeks when she thought about the request she had made of him, and she blushed more deeply when she remembered the way her name had sounded. His gravelly voice seemed to suit him so well that it was hard to him having another voice, even though she knew that his damaged vocal cords stemmed from his ghoulification. Stockholm waved down to the pair, but neither waved back.

Sarah was still slightly irked at his gossip-telling ways. 

As soon as they entered the house, Sarah dropped her bags and trudged upstairs, unbuckling her armor as she went, letting the pieces fall to the floor. Some of them landed with a clunk, while others fell down the stairs, clattering until they hit the bottom. _I’ll pick them up later._ Falling onto her bed at last, she closed her eyes and was asleep before she had even pulled her blanket up.

***

Charon watched as his employer… Sarah… no— his employer, walked upstairs, visibly exhausted. Her armor started hitting the ground before he realized she was taking it off. By the time she was at the top of the stairs, Charon had just barely glimpsed her bare legs "I'm going to bed. Charon, do whatever you want, okay?" she said as she disappeared into her bedroom. Charon started by walking around, picking up the pieces of armor scattered around the house. Once he had collected them all, he knocked on her door. When there was no answer he pushed it open and found the smoothskin passed out on her bed. She hadn’t even covered herself up. She was wearing her regular gray undershirt and a pair of shorts that looked more like underwear. Setting the armor on her desk, he reached down and pulled up the blankets, covering her. She snuggled into it, drawing her hand up under her chin. He watched her eyes flutter as she drifted deeper into sleep.

He couldn't deny that he wanted her. Her wearing that nightgown had been enough to shatter any illusions he had about that. But what he wasn't prepared for was the absence of hatred he felt towards her. Every employer he'd ever had left a burning sensation in his chest, an aching want to kill them that he could never fulfill. He protected them to the best of his ability, but it didn't mean he didn't want them dead. With her it was different: he didn’t mind being around her. She actually seemed… good, and no one good had ever possessed his contract before. She had actually tried to give him his contract, and no-one had ever done that before. It had always seemed like a cruel joke that even if someone wanted to give him his contract they wouldn’t be able to. He didn't deserve it though. He didn't deserve good, or nice, or kind. When it was quiet and he closed his eyes, he could still hear them screaming. He could hear the babies crying and see the mother's twisted, sobbing faces. He didn't have a choice, but it didn't make him feel any better, and it didn't make the screaming stop at night. The screaming faces rarely stopped. He wanted to leave. _She said you can do whatever you want._

Before he fully realized it he was out of her bedroom. He ran down the stairs, nearly tripping on the way down. He kept running, blindly, until he realized that he was out in the wastes. Bending over with his hands on his knees, panting heavily, he looked around. The terrain was different, flatter than the area around Megaton. He needed something, anything, to stop thinking, to stop hearing those screaming faces. In the west he spotted a camp of raiders. Charon grinned, bloodthirsty. _Yes_ , he thought, _that will do_. He walked slowly towards they camp. _Let them come to me._

The raiders tried to surround Charon. He let them get close, and when the leader approached him cockily, Charon was amused.

“Look at what we have here, boys,” the man sniggered. “A zombie out in the wastes.” He noted the raider’s shabby armor. Raiders always wore shitty armor, and this one was no exception. _Raiders have shitty everything_ , Charon thought, _and best of all, no one cares if you kill a few_. The leader wore his greasy hair spiked up into rows. It was tinted green at the tips, but had grown out from a mousey brown, making his hair seem sickly.

Charon observed the man and then smiled at him. The leader, somewhat shaken, took a step back. Still smiling, Charon pulled out his combat knife and drove it up through the man’s jaw, clutching his back to hold him in place. As the man died, he clawed at Charon’s arms, trying desperately to save himself. Warm blood spewed out of the raider’s mouth. It coated his chest, splashing onto Charon's neck and arms. The warmth bubbled onto his skin. It felt invigorating and Charon rolled his shoulders, flexing. The other raiders were frozen in place, watching the gruesome scene with horror. As the knife was removed, he dropped the body and turned towards the remaining raiders. Two of them turned around and ran. _Cowards_ , Charon thought. This left one man, still standing his ground. The now-lone raider cocked his hunting rifle, aimed at the vicious ghoul, and fired. The bullet embedded itself into Charon's armor, driving the breath out of him. Throwing his shoulder into the chest of the raider, the man fell to the ground on his back, struggling to breathe. Charon crouched down near the man’s head and looked down at the him. Charon tilted his head and smirked, “Seems you broke a couple ribs there. Let’s see if I can help with the pain.” With an elated expression, Charon sliced open the man’s stomach, drawing a thick line of blood.

The sun was setting by the time Charon was able to track down the other two raiders. He found one hiding behind a rusted out truck. The cowering man smelled like piss and fear. The other one was a girl, tall and thin. She hid in plain sight, looping back around to where her fallen comrades were. When he finally found her, she was clutching the dead leader's head in her lap, stroking his face. They both begged and pleaded. Charon took great pleasure in cutting them open.

  
Sitting on a rock, his foot propped up on one of the raider’s heads, Charon gazed out over the Wasteland. He needed to head back. Getting up, he didn’t even bother to loot the bodies. _Let the vultures have it_ , he thought. Heading east, he made his way back to Megaton.

***

When Sarah heard the door open she was in her room. She had woken up hours ago, and had been wondering where Charon was. The armor sitting nicely on her desk had not escaped her, and as a thank you, she had made that soap for him and even cooked him dinner. It was still in the oven, warming, while the soap was sitting on Charon’s new desk wrapped in a bit of linen she had found. Leaving her room, Sarah called out from the balcony, “Charon, there you are! I cooked us some dinner and I bought a bottle of scotch. You like scotch right? My dad likes scotch . I really don’t care for the—.”

Sarah froze as she leaned over the balcony, coming face to face with Charon. He was covered in blood. It was crusted onto his armor, and his arms and legs were coated in dried blood. Even his hair was matted down. Without thinking, she vaulted the railing and landed lightly on her feet. His eyes looked wild, never focusing on her for too long.

Sarah grabbed Charon’s hand and called out for Wadsworth. “Wadsworth, bring me some towels, and activate the infirmary.”

Floating up the stairs, Wadsworth replied, “Yes madam, right away.”

“Charon,” Sarah said delicately, “can I remove your armor? I need to check you for wounds.”

When he looked at her, his face emptied. He growled, “Just stop. Stop being nice to me.” Yanking his hand away, he walked upstairs and shut his door. Unsure of what else to do, she placed towels and some water in front of the door. On top of the towels she set a plate of food wrapped in cloth.

Before closing her door for the night, Sarah looked at his door with dismay. She kept thinking about Charon, which made her unable to sleep. She had been lying in bed for over an hour, when she heard his door open and close. She listened as he shuffled around in his room. Rubbing her eyes, Sarah got out of bed and padded across the floor to his room. Hesitant, she knocked on the door. Moments later he opened the door. The bright light disoriented her and she squinted, covering her eyes. Charon was in a pair of Brahmin skin pants, his chest bare. The skin was taught against his muscles, and where they were exposed she could see the deep striations and cords of muscle bundled together. She had to physically stop herself from touching him, but there was nothing to stop her eyes. Most of the dried blood had been wiped off, but his expression had not changed. Sarah was somewhat conscious of him staring down at her, and when he pulled on the same black t-shirt he always wore, she snapped back up to his face. 

“Yes?” he asked curtly. She was lost; she hadn’t really planned on him actually opening the door. She was suddenly very conscious of the fact that all she was wearing was a thin t-shirt that came down to mid-thigh, her breasts clearly visible against the material but she resisted the urge to call attention to it by crossing her arms. 

“Umm,” she struggled, biting her lip. It was a nervous habit she hated and her dad had always been trying to get her to break. She often cracked her lip from worrying it, but it still didn’t stop her. 

***

Charon was in pain, and when he heard a knock at his door, anger welled up inside him. She couldn’t just leave him the fuck alone? When he saw her standing there, obviously concerned, he regretted opening the door at all. “Um,” she paused, looking intensely uncomfortable. His eyes trailed down to her bare legs and feet and he said a silent curse. “I thought you might need help with your wounds,” she said, looking at the gashes on Charon’s arms. Realizing he had little choice, and that he did need help, he grunted and stepped to the side, allowing her inside.

He sat down on the bed and watched as she began soaking some cloth in water. She came over and began poking his arm. He hissed at her, but she merely looked at him with abject consternation. Once she was finished looking she got up and walked out of the room. When she came back with a Stimpak, Charon held out his arm obediently, like a child. _Like a dog_. Charon watched as she injected the needle right above the worst cut. It carved its way across the inside of his elbow, trailing down to his wrist. She then got the cloth that had been soaking in water and wrapped it around his arm. Immediately, Charon felt a warm and pleasant sensation around his wound.  
Without prompting she told him that Gob had told her about irradiated water helping to heal ghouls. _Who the fuck is Gob?_ Charon thought. Tying the cloth, she added, “Keep that on all night, okay? And eat something too.” She pointed towards the wrapped plate on his table and yawned. “I’m going back to bed,” she said over her shoulder as she tried to walk back to her room.

Before she could reach the door, Charon reached out and grabbed her hand. He didn’t realize he was doing it until her felt her fingers slide between his. He could feel the contradictions on her hand; scars, calluses, soft patches that hadn't been rubbed raw. _I don't want this_ , a part of him screamed, but he pushed on. "Thank you," he blurted out eventually. She looked somewhat surprised, before she smiled down at him sitting on the bed. She leaned down, still holding his hand and tentatively wrapped her other arm around his neck. The touched was light and gentle, and she didn’t prolong it. Her hair fell forward into his face and the faint scent of jasmine and vanilla wafted over him. _I almost forgot what flowers smelled like._

"Goodnight Charon," she yawned, letting his hand drop to his side. His heart was beating fast, as if he'd just been in a fight. When he went to eat his food, he unwrapped the plate and noticed a small, cube-shaped item sitting off to the side. When unwrapped the soft, white linen his heart dropped. She had made him the soap.   
The rest of the night Charon tried to ignore the lingering memory of her arm sliding around his neck and her finger intertwined with his, but that was easier said than done, but even when he fell asleep, he could smell just a hint of jasmine and vanilla.

 


	7. Dangerous as a Butter Knife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Gob. I love Nova. I love Gob and Nova together. But most of all I love Gob/Lone Wanderer friendship. Nothing is better. Honestly, at least in my head-canon, the Lone Wanderer looks at Gob as an older brother. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Sarah woke up and stretched, her eyes still closed. Smiling into her pillow, she thought of last night. Her head itched, and she scratched it groggily as she sat up. After putting on her Brahmin-skin pants, she walked downstairs, grabbed a box of Sugar Bombs and headed out the door.

Sarah thought about waking up Charon to tell him she was leaving, but he would insist on accompanying her and she wanted him to rest. When he had come home the night before covered in blood Sarah had been afraid. He had pushed her away angrily, yelling at her, but then... he had grabbed her hand softly in his. His hands were laced with missing skin and scars that hadn’t healed properly, leaving puckered ridges that she wanted to trace with her fingertips. He held her hand gently and with hesitantation, like he worried she would hit him, which made no sense because of the contract. Affection had blossomed up in her chest and she hugged him, just for a second. She had wanted to tell him it was okay, but the words didn’t come out. Besides, she didn’t even know what was supposed to be okay. 

When outside she realized her sleep schedule needed some serious adjusting. Her Pip-boy flashed 5:06 AM.  _Well, I’m already up_ , she thought, shrugging. She walked behind buildings to avoid the few residents up at this time. As she walked, she popped handfuls of the sugary cereal in her mouth, savoring each bite. She slipped in the back door of Moriarty’s, and crouched down to avoid detection. Slowly, she crept through the back office until she was right behind her target. She set down her Sugar Bombs and shifted her weight. Sarah pounced, taking her prey with a single move.

***

With a shout, Gob fell over. When he looked down, he realized that he was sitting on top of the Vaultie and she was grinning from ear to ear. He sighed and she grinned even larger. With a smirk, Gob began bouncing, and he earned a grunt of discomfort. He stood up, still laughing at the girl flopped on the floor. She looked every bit a beached whale. Exasperated, she finally sat up, blowing a piece of hair out of her face. Still sitting in the floor, she reached back and grabbed the Sugar Bombs and began eating them straight out of the box. The radio played in the background and Sarah thought she heard Three Dog mention her. She did her best to ignore it. Turning back to Gob, she smiled.

“Did I scare ya, Gob?” she asked innocently.

He pretended to ignore her, until she began throwing Sugar Bombs at his face. After one of them hit him in the eye he stomped over and grabbed the box of cereal. With a shriek, the girl protested. He lifted the box into the air, above his head. Carrying the cereal box with him, he began restocking the bar, then the fridge, then finally began gathering the empty bottles scattered around. The Vaultie, meanwhile, did her best to jump up and grab the box, her fingers not getting even close to the box.  _Her and Nova are the only ones that treat me like a person_ , Gob thought as he watched her wiggle her fingers in the air, trying desperately to reach the box in his hands. Nova, who was sitting in her usual spot, cackled as the girl finally climbed up the ghoul’s back and grabbed the cereal box. Still perched on Gob’s shoulders, she resumed eating her breakfast. All three of them were laughing by the time Gob managed to pull her off of him.

Sarah remembered suddenly, like an idiot, that she had forgotten to give Carol Gob's letter. He had given it to her awhile ago, and she had promised that she would give it to Carol when she made it to Underworld. She felt guilty, but it wasn't like she had been in the best of shape. Still, she hoped Gob would forgive her. Next time she was in the Underworld, she would make sure that Carol received it.

***

“Gob!” said a stern voice from upstairs. The ghoul flinched at the voice. Heavy footsteps came down the steps one at a time, and Sarah scowled as she saw the bar owner, Moriarty. With a cigarette in one hand, he frowned. “How many fucking times to I have tell you to get your rotting ass back to work? I’ll add onto your debt if I don’t see some actual effort,” he yelled in his thick Irish accent. The accent made vowels roll over consonants and Sarah hated it and the cruel man that never seemed to shut up. Gob cowered at his employer and rushed to the counter to collect dirty mugs. He reminded her of Charon, but at least Charon’s contract prohibited physical abuse, she thought sadly. Gob had no protection, and no one in Megaton seemed to mind that Moriarty beat a ghoul regularly.  _It’s just a ghoul after all,_ Sarah thought bitterly.  _Or at least, that’s how people act._

“Ah, little lass, how are ye?” Moriarty smirked, looking down at her. She ignored him, and got up to go sit at the bar. Boxing Gob on the ears, Moriarty admonished him. “Aren’t ye gonna ask the lass if she wants a drink?” Sarah twirled a butter knife on the counter, trying to control herself.

He stuttered, “Yes sir, of course, sir. Get right on that sir.”

Watching this exchange, Sarah was enraged. It was all he could do to keep her mouth shut. The last time she had said anything... Gob ended up with two broken ribs and his eye had been swollen shut for a week. Sarah still didn’t forgive herself. The atmosphere in the bar was tense, and when asked if she wanted to buy anything, it really wasn't a choice. She ended up purchasing three bottles of beer, but when Gob went to bring them to her them he tripped, dropping all three. Gob looked down, horrified, but before he could say anything Moriarty was on him. The enraged man shoved him to the floor and began savagely kicking him, the stomach, the legs, wherever he could get. Nova screamed. By the time Sarah was able to push Moriarty away, Gob was breathing raggedly and his face was beginning to swell. A large cut above his eyebrow bled profusely, dripping down into his eye. He blinked rapidly. 

With her hands out towards Moriarty, Sarah called out to Nova. She nodded towards Gob, while keeping her eyes on Moriarty. “Nova, take him to my house. Use the infirmary. There’s dirty water on the shelf in the kitchen. Gob will know what to do,” she instructed. The two shuffled towards the door, with Nova supporting him as best she could. Moving to stop them, Moriarty stepped forward.

“No. We need to talk,” Sarah sneered, blocking his path. “No more hitting Gob. That’s it. Do you understand?”

“Lass, I reckon I can do whatever I please with the corpse,” he said laughing. He was one of the first people Sarah met outside of the Vault, and she liked him even less now than she did. 

“What does Gob owe you? I’ll pay it. Whatever it is I’ll pay it in cash, just let him go." She had bitten her tongue for so long, but she was at her breaking point and enough was enough.

The first time she met Gob she had been fresh out of the Vault, and hadn’t really known Gob. He seemed nice enough, and he always kept her drink full, but she didn’t really know anything besides he had been heavily exposed to radiation. She remember thinking about how painful it must’ve been. 

When Moriarty started berating him in the full bar no one said a word except her. She had yelled at Moriarty to shut the fuck up and leave Gob alone. He had looked at her with such a sadistic grin that she knew she had made a terrible mistake. That was right before he cold cocked the ghoul right in the face, knocking him to the ground. He jumped on top of Gob, who tried to scramble away, terrified. Moriarty hit him twice more in the same spot as the first, his knuckles coming away smattered with blood. The he had stood up calmly, swiping back his hair and leaving streaks of blood in his gray hair. He smiled at her once more, all his teeth exposed, and kicked the ghoul in the ribs hard enough to make Gob scream as the air left his body. 

It had been so horrifying, so heartless and cruel that at first Sarah had been frozen in place, but when she managed to look around, she realized that everyone had gone back to drinking and talking, like a person just hadn’t been beaten in front of them. That was when she realized the ghouls weren’t people to most, and even if it hadn’t been a ghoul, only rarely were people willing to stand up for another. It was the first truly heartless and cruel thing she had even seen. And it sickened her. She had pulled out her gun, planning on killing Moriarty, but a red-headed woman with a raspy voice had pulled her roughly aside, told her she was a fool, and to get out of the bar. She found out later that was Nova. But she had only partially followed her advice, insisting on taking Gob to the doctor and paying for his treatment. She had apologized to him a hundred times that night, but it never felt like enough. She had never done enough. Not for Gob or Nova. 

Moriarty just laughed, “Lass, there’s no way in hell I’m ever letting him go. He’s a free employee, loyal as a dog. Almost a literal dog too.”

Sarah wrinkled her brow. “I was afraid you’d say that,” she sighed. “Are you sure that there isn’t anyway I could get you to change your mind?” she asked, walking up to Moriarty with a defeated expression on her face. Moriarty grinned.

“Aye, lass, there might be a way,” he chuckled, while he leered at the young girl. She touched him lightly on the shoulder, letting his hand settle low on her hips. All of the hate and bile and anger at the world she had stepped into six months ago bubbled over and she focused it on him.

Without thinking, she drove the butter knife into his chest. The knife struggled to push through his chest, but she put all of her effort into doing this one thing, not even daring to take a breath. The feeling when the knife slid home was euphoric. Moriarty wheezed, falling to his knees. His eyes were no longer cold and calculating, instead they were filled with pure terror and Sarah reveled in it.

She knew that this wasn’t the right way, that there were better ways, but this felt too good to feel guilty about. He clutched at the hands still holding the knife, trying to drag them away. She pulled out the knife slowly and his white t-shirt became stained in blood. Twirling the knife, she walked behind him. Leaning over, with her mouth next to his ear, she whispered, “Who is the corpse now?” She then slid the dull knife across Moriarty’s throat, carving it. He choked out a gurgling scream before collapsing in a pool of his own blood. Calmly, Sarah wiped her hands on Moriarty’s pants, dropping the knife next to his body. She casually checked her clothing for blood, before slipping out the back, leaving her box of cereal behind. 

***

Charon heard the door open. He had woken up recently, but he hadn’t heard his employer rise, and was content to stay in his room until she did. He silently got out of bed and made his way across his room. Cracking the door open, Charon saw a young woman with unkempt red hair, supporting a ghoul up the stairs. The ghoul’s face was bruised and swollen, with a bad cut across the top of his eyebrow. Charon opened the door completely and stepped in front of them. Both the woman and ghoul froze. “Who’re you?” he grunted at them. Their faces said that they had the same question. 

The woman, staggering under the ghoul’s weight, said, “My name is Nova and this is Gob. We know Sarah. She sent us here because Gob needs help.”

Unsure, Charon thought for a moment. She had mentioned a Gob and Nova before, and they looked harmless enough. He stepped aside, allowing them to use the infirmary while his employer returned. As a precaution, he kept his gun resting in both of his arms as the ghoul sat down at the med station.

***

The first rays of light were beginning to shine and Sarah knew she didn’t have much time. People would be milling around soon and the body would be discovered. Rushing back to her place she burst through the door to her house. Running upstairs, she found Nova tending to Gob in the infirmary, and Charon with his gun resting aggressively in their general direction. 

“Charon, they’re okay,” she assured. He lowered his weapon. Both Nova and Gob looked nervously at Charon before focusing their attention on Sarah. She walked over to them and handed them a large bag of caps. “Go somewhere. Be seen. Now. The Brass Lantern, the doc. Somewhere public,” Sarah instructed. Her voice was strained and hurried but they didn’t have much time. Looking down, Sarah realized her hands were shaking. 

Simms didn’t tolerate murder of anyone in Megaton, scum or not. The bar owner wielded a lot of power in town and he made sure everyone knew. The town would suffer for a while without his resources, but they would find a way. There was no other choice now. 

***

The ghoul, Gob, had blanched at the sight of the Smoothskin. Charon could see why. Her eyes were shifty and wild, and he could see her hands shaking even though she tried to hide them. “Sarah, what have you done?” Gob asked.

“Only what was right. Now go,” she insisted, practically shoving them down the stairs. They left without saying anything else, even though Charon could see they had questions. _What had happened?_ “Charon, we need to go. NOW. Pack everything you need for a 3-day scouting trip.” Wordlessly he turned and walked to his room.

***

Sarah grabbed her pack and began shoving things in. When she was ready, she grabbed the two sniper rifles and when she met Charon at the top of the stairs Sarah handed him one.  _I guess it’s now or never,_  Sarah thought.

 


	8. The Journey is Half the Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a little while since the last chapter. I love getting emails telling me I have new comments or kudos. I'm really glad you all are enjoying the story. Hopefully I can be a little more consistent here for the next while. I'm almost done editing Chapter 9, so it will be up tomorrow at the latest. Enjoy!

Charon followed his employer underneath the arched gate of Megaton. She circled behind the wall and headed west. He stayed five feet back and to the right, gun in his hand. Time passed slowly as the sun rose higher into the sky. He still wasn’t quite sure how she worked yet, and anticipating her movements was difficult. The smoothskin was constantly stopping to check her Pip-Boy and so progress was slower than he would’ve liked. Micro changes to the course added up, taking up more and more time. He guessed that they had travelled 4 miles by the time the sun was highest in the sky. A group of crows circled in the distance when his employer suddenly crouched. He followed suit as they approached a mostly-ruined church, with a sea of gravestones spilling out from it. Standing outside were two super mutants. One of them had a machine gun and was wildly waving it around, while the other watched in amusement. 

He glanced at her to determine the plan. _So far we’ve evaded trouble, so why’s she risking our position now?_ he wondered. He would never question his employer out loud, but his mind at least was safe from the contract. _For the most part_. After looking at her Pip-Boy again, she looked at Charon and pulled out her sniper rifle, nodding for him to do the same. Once they were in position, they aimed at the super mutants. 

She whispered, “On your right,” so quietly that it was almost lost on the wind. “On my three, 1…2…3…” she ordered. 

Both shots were deadly accurate, and both super mutants slumped to the ground before the shots echoed across the wasteland. Before Charon could react, his employer was already slinking around the gravestones towards the church. He was still thirty feet back by the time she had made it to the door, and Charon made a note that she was faster than him at a sprint, even with his much longer legs. Suddenly a shadow fell across her, as another super mutant stepped out in front of her. She was too close for him to try to shoot the damn thing, and he could only watch as they engaged. 

As soon as his employer saw the super mutant, almost gracefully, she stepped forward with her right leg and hooked around its body with the left. Pushing herself forward, she ended up behind the green brute. Charon lost sight of her momentarily, before she appeared again crouched on the super mutant’s shoulders. The dumb beast was grabbing at her, but his overdeveloped muscles prevented him from reaching her on his back. She cocked her head and smirked before driving her combat knife through the top of the super mutant’s skull. She rode the giant to the ground and then stood, obviously pleased with herself, like a dog that had won a fight over a bone. 

*** 

When Charon finally caught up, he looked down at the supermutant. She shrugged. “I climb on Gob all the time. He steals my stuff,” she explained. “I figured it couldn’t be that different. I mean, structurally anyways.” Suddenly remembering why she had killed the super mutants, she ran into the church. “Oh!” A man kneeled in the corner, bound and gagged. His eyes were filled with terror. Sarah quickly bent down and untied the man. She could tell that he was just an average wastelander. _He doesn’t even have a gun_ , she thought. 

“Thank you! Whoever you are, thank you! The... things they talked about doing to me...” The man shuddered and Sarah patted his shoulder. 

“You’re okay now,” she reassured the man. “Here, take this,” she said, handing him a basic .32 pistol, ammo, and enough food to last the day. “Travel east,” she said, “and you should come upon Megaton, do you know where that is?” The man nodded. “Good, go to Megaton and ask to speak to Sheriff Simms. Tell him 101 said to give you a bed in the Common House, on me. Do you have any skills?” she then asked, smiling at the timid man. 

“I’m pretty good at fixing things,” the man mumbled. 

“Great! Find Walter and you can help him at the water processing plant. The old coot is always going on about the place falling apart. Maybe you can help.” 

He was nodding when he noticed Charon, leaning up against the doorframe. 

“Gh-g-ghoul!” he cried, obviously terrified. 

Sarah quickly stepped in front of him. “No, this is my friend. He’s a good guy. He helped me rescue you. We have to go, but go to Megaton and they’ll help you, okay?” 

The man, still unsure about the stoned-faced ghoul, nodded at Sarah. As he walked past the door he looked over his shoulder to watch his back. 

*** 

Charon watched the man as he walked back the way they had just came. Turning, he looked down at the smoothskin. She was biting her lip. He knew what she was going to say. 

“Sorry,” she said. 

“Why,” he feigned ignorance. _It doesn’t bother me. Not anymore_ , he thought. 

He bent down and began fiddling with his bag. He couldn’t look at her right now. He couldn’t bear to see the pity smeared on her face. _Fuck pity. It never helped anyone._

“His reaction… He just doesn’t know you. Like I know you. If he did, I know he’d see you differently,” she said gently. 

He stood up suddenly. Looking down at her he grabbed her chin with one hand, forcing her to look at him. 

“Look at me, Smoothskin. There is no other way to see me. I am a man walking around in a rotting flesh suit. You don’t know jack shit about me. I’d kill a newborn if you commanded it. I'd slit its belly open and watch it die. Is that the person you think you know? Is that the person you think I am?” he sneered. He roughly let go of her jaw. “Let me know when we need to head out,” he said over his shoulder as he walked away.

 _She was just so goddamned irritating. She never stopped talking_. But… he shouldn’t have touched her. That was his employer. The nausea overwhelmed him quickly, but he refused to appear weak in front of her. He walked behind the church before falling to his knees, gagging, until there was nothing in his stomach but acid and bile. It left a sour taste in his mouth. When he stood up, he covered his weakness with his foot, piling dirt on top of it. 

He thought about his other employers. If he had ever touched Ahzrukhal, it would’ve been a cold day in hell before he got to eat again. That was always Ahzrukhal’s favorite, starvation. There were other methods to making his life miserable though. That was the problem with his contract. It prohibited physical abuse, but it never talked about letting him eat or sleep. Most of his employers had been... efficient... at bending the rules of his contract. 

*** 

The church was mostly standing, and a fire burned in the corner, so Sarah decided to make camp to rest and eat before the sun went down. Charon had grunted when she told him, which was sort of like answering her. After what Charon said, she had left him alone. The fire crackling was some ambient noise, but dinner was so quiet it was painful. Picking at her food, she would occasionally glance over at Charon, but he refused to acknowledge her.

Face half illuminated by the fire, he looked like a storm contained behind a pane of glass. She felt so lonely that she had convinced herself that she knew Charon, that they were friends. But he was right, she didn't know him. She was his employer. She was no better than Ahzrukhal. She had never been alone in the Vault, but now the loneliness was everywhere, creeping past the fire and threatening to overwhelm her. Finally, she couldn't hold it in anymore. Amata, her dad, the mother she never knew. An unending stream of emotions washed over her and she began to cry. 

*** 

Charon looked up just in time to watch his employer wipe away her tears. His face twitched as she sniffed quietly. He had been sharp when she didn't deserve it. She was trying to be nice to him. Charon was used to being verbally abused by his employers. He had learned how to turn everything off. He just didn't hear it, didn't react. Usually they got tired of doing it when it failed to get a reaction out of him. But he wasn't ready for nice. He wasn't ready for pity, and he sure as hell wasn't ready for her. 

“I’m sorry.” It was the most he could manage, and he hoped it was enough. Tears still in the corners of her eyes, she gave him a small smile. 


	9. Memories are a Bitch

 

Sarah checked her Pip-boy. _We’re almost there_ , she thought. She glanced back at Charon. They hadn’t really spoken during the journey. He hadn’t said anything since… 

 _“I’m sorry,”_ his voice echoed in her head. He had sounded sincere, but he had been right before, even if he said it in a blunt way. She didn't know him. They weren't friends. Telling herself that had hurt, especially her pride. She had grown up with the same children since before she could remember. There was Gob and Nova, but they didn't have to see her when she was out in the Wastes killing people. They weren't bound by a contract to be with her. _Dad would know what to do._ Sarah was still angry with her father for abandoning her, but she still valued his advice. Shaking her head, she tried to brush her thoughts away. She needed to be focused on the problem at hand, not her dad ( _Or Charon,_ she added.) 

Sarah eyed the sky, then set her bags against a large boulder formation. They were a hundred yards from the south side of Fort Bannister. The info that Dukov had given her about the Talon Company had been extremely useful. The south-side fence was down in one place, just like Dukov said. If the rest of his information was correct, they would have over half the camp wiped out before anyone knew what was happening. If it wasn't, Sarah hoped she got out alive just so she could put a bullet between Dukov's eyes. 

“Might as well settle in. We start at 1 AM. It’s 4 now. I suggest we sleep in shifts. I’ll take first watch,” she said, nonchalantly. At least, that’s how she hoped it sounded. In truth, her stomach flipped at the thought of seeing Charon sleep. _What did he look like sleeping?_

“No, I will watch. I am your guard,” he objected. 

“Look, I need you in top form. That means rest. You can’t help me if you get shot,” she pointed out. Charon stared at her silently with his arms folded. Ordering him was technically an option, but she was loathe to do that, even though she knew he wouldn't budge without it. “Fine,” she said, throwing up her hands, “if you get shot, don’t complain.” 

When she turned away to get her sleeping roll, she was damned if she didn’t glimpse a smirk on Charon’s face. Her jaw dropped, but she snapped it closed so quickly that her teeth hurt. Rolling over, she tried to get comfortable on the rocky ground. Sooner than she expected, she was drifting off to sleep. 

*** 

 _God, she’s a stubborn little ass_ , Charon thought. The smoothskin had put her hands on her hips and had tried to take first watch. _Like hell._ Charon wasn’t about to let his employer watch him while he slept. It was against every bit of training he had. He was trained to take orders, but his primary directive was always to protect his employer. If she had ordered him, he would’ve obeyed, but the contractions between obeying and protecting her would’ve racked him with nausea and a migraine that would’ve followed him into sleep. When she gave in, he smiled internally at his little victory. He may be a slave in all but name, but even slaves can win occasionally. 

Once her breathing was regular, Charon relaxed a bit. Tilting his head back, he watched as birds circled above them. His mind drifted. 

*** 

"Honey! You're getting mud all over the house. Oh and the ducks, you know I don't like you bringing the ducks in the house," Charon's mother exclaimed, her eyes worrying her freshly cleaned floor before settling on the dead ducks in his father's hand. Moose bounded from behind him, knocking Charon down. The chocolate lab licked the boy's face from top to bottom until he pushed him away, giggling. 

"Sorry darling, I'll take the birds outside. Come on boys, let's leave Mama Bear to her doings. And don't worry about the floor dear, I'll clean it as soon as I get done." Charon followed his father outside, Moose tagging along. Charon hated watching his father butcher the ducks, so instead, he found a large stick and threw it as hard as he could. He watched as the large brown dog ran after it, disappearing into the brush. Moose was gone for a while, and when he came back the dog was dragging a much bigger stick than before. Charon laughed and laughed until Moose nudged his arm and he was forced to congratulate the dog on doing a good job with a pat on the head. 

"What's so funny out there?" his father called from inside his workshop. 

"Nothing dad! Just Moose!" he called in. He didn't want to go in, so he played fetch until the sun went down and his father was finished. 

Charon remembered the next day his arm had hurt from throwing the stick so many times. It had been a long time since he had thought about his family. He found himself thinking more with this new employer. She treated him like a person, but he almost missed being an empty shell. At least then he didn't have to feel as shitty as he did now. He didn't want to remember his family. He didn't want to remember every despicable thing he ever did. _It's not going away, and neither is she._ He hated her for a moment, but it only lasted that, a moment. It wasn't her fault this is who he was. 

***  

A quick touch to the arm woke Sarah, and she nodded to the dark figure. The sun had fallen behind the horizon, casting her companion and everything else into darkness. She checked her Pip-boy and realized it was 12:15. Forty-five minutes. Gathering her weapons she turned on the flashlight from her Pip-boy and began making routine repairs and making sure all weapons were fully loaded. She wasn't particularly skilled with weapons repair, but she could make sure the damn thing didn't fall apart in her hand. Normally she would’ve been worried about the light her flashlight produced, but behind this large boulder they wouldn’t be able to see the glow from their direction. 

By the time she had finished it was 12:45. Noting that he had been checking his weapons as well, she nodded. He was obviously more skilled than she was, and she hoped eventually she could persuade him to teach her. “You ready?” Sarah asked. 

“Are you?” he responded stoically. Without responding, she turned off her Pip-boy light. It was time. 

*** 

When they were past the gate the smoothskin signaled Charon to go left. He flanked off, going about ten feet before he saw the first sentinel walking in front of him. The man had his back turned and his throat was slit before he could even register the blade on his neck. 

Moving on, he noticed a tent up ahead. He slipped in and noticed two men sleeping on mattresses. He crouched at the head of one man and covered the man’s mouth with his hand. The man’s eyes flew open and Charon slipped his blade between his ribs. Charon watched as the man’s life drained out of his eyes. It gave him a sick satisfaction. Moving onto the next man, he performed the same grim ritual. When he exited the tent, he wiped the knife on the door flap, marking it with blood.

*** 

Sarah moved quickly through the shadows. Time was limited. Her plan was to completely wipe out the ground sentinels, working their way around the perimeter until she met Charon on the opposite side. Along the way, they would eliminate any sleeping Talon Company in the tents that edged along the fence line. Dukov had warned her about the tent in the crater. Apparently the guy slept with a missile launcher. She crouched in the shadows when she saw the tent and crept in slowly. Luckily the man was still sleeping, his arm draped over the prophesied missile launcher. In one fluid motion she swung her leg over the man, pinning his arms to his sides. She covered his mouth with her hand and held one finger to her lips. 

“Shhh,” she whispered, almost seductively. The man eyed her warily. She rubbed her hips on the man’s stomach and the man smiled, relaxing. Men are so simple, Sarah thought before pulling out a silenced 10 mm. He struggled as she aimed it at his head. The quiet pop of her gun stilled him. Blood dripped rhythmically onto the floor, pooling beneath the bed. 

By the time she had made it to the northern wall she was sweating. She checked the time. _3 o’clock_ , she thought, _we have just enough time._ She looked around for Charon and saw him striding towards her in the dark. Even in the shadows, his form was unmistakable. His gait was long and smooth, and his body reminded her of a muscular, sable cat with piercing eyes. In his hand was a wet blade that reminded her of a bloodied fang. He stopped, and it felt so much closer than he usually stood, but she knew she was just imagining it. Her body grew warm at his closeness.  _Pull it together_. The past few days, she’d been having thoughts about Charon that weren’t... expected. The unfamiliar thoughts scared her slightly, and thrilled her more. When he got close, she straightened her back, shoving them to the side.

They met under one of the ruined buildings along the north wall. Dukov had mentioned in his notes that this would make the best sniping spot to pick off the Talon Company mercs in the center, as well as the ones on lower ruined buildings. The ascent was easy and they had made it to the third floor without trouble, when Sarah stopped. She looked up and realized that she couldn’t reach the next floor. _If we stay on the third floor we’ll be even with the other snipers. That’s not really an advantage_ , she thought. Large hands suddenly picked her up, and she almost yelped before covering her mouth. Looking down, she realized that Charon was lifting her onto his shoulders so she could reach the next floor. Smiling, she patted Charon’s head, then pushed off with her hand, putting her feet on his shoulders. From there it was an easy climb to the fourth floor. 

*** 

Charon had picked the smoothskin up before he knew what he was doing himself. He knew she couldn’t reach the next floor without difficulty. Even though she hadn't asked, he decided to make it easier, even though Charon was sure, left to her own devices she could figure something out. He told himself it was due to the contract, but that was a lie. 

After she had climbed onto the next floor, she poked her head over the ledge and grinned. A hand reached out to him, her fingertips wiggling. 

“Let me help you,” she whispered down to him. He scoffed in reply, looking away. When he looked up at her again she looked hurt. “Charon, please. Trust me,” she said quietly. In spite of himself, he found himself reaching out to her. He grabbed her hand and was surprised when she was able to pull him up. She was stronger than she looked. Looking around, he noted that this was an excellent sniping spot. Excellent coverage, views of the entire compound, and best of all, hard to access.


	10. Business is Business

The last sniper slumped over his gun. Sarah lowered her rifle and grinned. The snipers had been lazy, not checking the perimeter like they should’ve, which allowed Sarah and Charon to take out 3 of the 5 before they could even reach for their guns. The Talon Company had no idea where the shooting was coming from, and Sarah wanted to keep it that way, so they laid low for a while, slipping back from the ledge where they were too high up to be seen. They waited about an hour, before crawling slowly to the edge and taking out the last remaining two. She preferred sweeping targets from left to right, which she guessed Charon had picked up on, because without asking he had swept right to left, meeting her in the center. It was a small gesture, but Sarah appreciated it. 

Light was just beginning to show across the wasteland, and the sliver of sun shone hazily through the radiation clouds in the distance. The only Talon Company mercs left, aside from the barracks, were protected in the center tents. Three guard dogs walked in between the tents, occasionally sniffing the air. Motioning with her hand towards the dogs, she signaled Charon. She hated to kill the dogs, but she didn’t really have an option. He fired once and one of the dogs yelped before collapsing in the dirt. Sarah finished off the other two shortly after. A commotion began in the tents below and as the men began exiting the tents, Sarah picked them off. Charon followed suit and soon there was a pile of bodies. 

Sarah checked her Pip-Boy. It was detecting two hostiles left in the tents. She showed two fingers to Charon and he nodded. They waited, silent. A Talon Company Merc peaked his head out from the tent. Sarah and Charon held their fire. They kept waiting until both Talon Company Mercs had left their tents and were looking around, weapons drawn. Charon and Sarah fired together. The men below stumbled and fell. 

*** 

Her hand signals were rudimentary, but Charon knew what she wanted. The dogs, two men left, waiting; he understood what she wanted from him. It was his job. 

 _It isn’t my job to be a pansy ass, though_ , he thought. He was disgusted with his own weakness. Thinking about his family had been mentally draining. He looked over at the smoothskin. She was reloading and packing up her weapons. 

“Charon,” she called out. “I want to climb down and sort through their gear; they might have some useful stuff. I need you to stay up here and watch out for me. Can you do that?” she asked. 

Charon grunted in reply. He watched her climb down the ruined building, eerily similar to an acrobat. _She’s agile,_ he thought as he watched her scale down the ground. 

Once she was on the ground, his employer immediately started flitting around collecting things as she went. He watched her go to each of the bodies, pilfering through and collecting the things she wanted. By the time she had sorted through the center tents both her bags were bulging. Charon looked through his scope. She hadn’t even gone through the sniper spots, or the tents along the perimeter. _How could she want that much shit?_ He watched her as she jogged back to the building he was stationed in, glancing away occasionally to check for danger. She disappeared as she walked into the building. She popped up moments later and climbed her way back up. Once she was at the third floor the smoothskin stopped. He heard her sigh. 

“Charon, can you help me?” she called up to him. He walked over to the edge of the floor and leaned over. He grabbed the bags that she was pushing up towards him and tossed them behind him. He then stretched out his hand, grabbing her wrists. Her hands wrapped around his forearms, sending a small pulse of energy where she touched him. She was light, and pulling her up was easy. When she was on the floor with him he let her go, but it was too sudden and she lost her balance. She started to fall and clutched at his arm. He grabbed her, pulling her close to him, as some pieces of the floor came loose and clattered to the ground below. Charon could still smell the faint jasmine in her hair and felt her warm body pressing into him. Her eyes were large and her pupils were dilated. Chapped lips that parted slightly from her breathing. Their eyes met and his resolve hardened. Pushing her away roughly, he turned around and returned to his station. He turned his back to her and began cleaning his weapon. After a few moments, he heard her moving behind him. He felt her back lean against his. Her head tilted back, fitting in between his shoulder blades.

"Charon, can we be friends. Please? I don't want you to hate me," she sighed, her back drooping. He leaned back against her weight, letting them support each other. 

"I don't hate you. But I don't know how to be friends," Charon admitted, and that was the truth. You didn't come from where he did and have friends. 

"That's okay. I'm not really sure I know how to be friends either. But can we at least try?" she asked, hopefully. Charon felt her hand move on top of his, but he didn't pull away. It felt calming, sitting with her like this. He didn’t feel the same pressure he did when she was looking at him, trying to see into him. 

"We can try." 

They sat like that for a while, until she cleared her throat and stood. Guessing break time was over, Charon stood as well. Collecting the rest of their gear, they descended the building, and she smiled at him. 

 _Can we at least try?_ she had asked. How could he say no to that? _No, we can’t,_ a voice in his head whispered. Tapping his gun against his thigh, Charon cleared his thoughts and followed her to a tent in a large crater. As they entered, he noticed a man lying on the bed with a single gunshot to the head. In the corner was a manhole. 

“Down here on the left is one Talon Company and a turret. You take out the turret while I handle the merc,” she asserted. Charon nodded. They climbed down into the dark quietly. Once on the ground, they crouched. He could see the turret, but it hadn’t detected them yet. The smoothskin lifted her palm with her thumb folded across. Charon smiled; he understood. 

*** 

Sarah and Charon were on opposite sides of the door. The merc guarding it lay dead at their feet. On the other side of the wall an explosion rocked the floor. 

“Who the hell has a missile launcher underground?” Sarah shouted over the noise. She was bewildered. Edging her gun around the corner, she fired once, not really aiming as much as praying. The missile-wielding loon gasped as he was hit in the arm. The man cussed and reloaded, forcing a missile into the chamber. Sarah ducked back behind the wall just in time. The explosion rocked the underground bunker again and Sarah rolled her eyes. 

It had taken nearly two hours to clear the staircase. It winded down to the room below and had been well-guarded. They weaved through the bodies on the floor. Reinforcements had come steadily and she and Charon had a hard time holding them off. Eventually reinforcements stopped coming and they were able to pick them off one at a time. She realized, once on the bottom floor, that this was a large missile silo. The covered hole in the ground seemed ominous. 

A door in the corner caught her eye. It led them through a corridor until they wound up in the barracks. The room was empty. Sarah spent the next thirty minutes collecting all the gear that she wanted and putting in in a metal box. She would grab it on their way out. 

Moving on, they travelled down some stairs, when a bullet whizzed past Sarah’s face. She was irritated. Dukov had failed to mention more turrets. She crouched and aimed. Before she could fire, Charon stepped out from behind her and took it out. Sarah re-aimed and took out the second one. The machines burst, sending pieces of metal scattered in all directions. 

“Thanks,” she said. He nodded, but she didn’t see him. She followed the map Dukov had given her, although they moved more carefully this time. They passed the kitchen and Sarah’s stomach growled. She ducked in quickly and found a can of Pork n’ Beans. Her mouth watered. She opened the can with her knife and began stuffing her face happily, ignorant of the amused expression on Charon’s face. She finished the can and hummed, content. 

She looked at Charon and frowned. “Up these stairs to the right is a storage closet. I’ll hack into that and then move to the right. That’s where Jabsco is. He’s the commander. He’ll know who put the bounty on me. Apparently there’s a computer terminal I can hack into and reset the turrets guarding him. They’ll keep him and everyone else down there busy. Charon, whatever happens, I need Jabsco alive.” 

“Okay,” he responded. She was surprised. Usually he just nodded. _Steps toward friendship,_ she thought happily. 

“Okay,” she echoed. 

*** 

He watched as she typed away at a computer terminal, her brow furrowed. Finally, the computer dinged. She opened the door and started collecting items from the first aid kit. She handed him a bottle of Buffout. 

“Take one,” she said. It was an order, and Charon didn't argue. He was accustomed to orders. She took one as well. She then pulled out two stimpaks. After injecting herself, she walked over to him, looking at him expectantly. Grumbling, he held out his arm. The smoothskin unbuckled his bracer and injected the stimpak and Charon could feel the medicine travel up his arm. 

He buckled his armor back and they headed to the right. The smoothskin got to work typing on the computer and it a few minutes he heard shots being fired in the room beyond. One man in metal armor ran past them and she nodded Charon after him. 

Charon caught up to him in no time and clamped his hand around the man’s throat. The man fumbled with his gun, firing it even though it was pointed down. It grazed the inside of Charon’s lower thigh. He lifted the man slightly into the air. Narrowing his eyes, he growled at the man, showing his teeth. Humans were always afraid of ghouls going feral right in front of them. 

“What’s your name?” he demanded, loosening his grip only slightly. The man gasped. 

“J-Jabsco,” he croaked. 

“Today isn’t a good day for Jabscos,” Charon said, his mouth twisting at the corners. He slammed the man’s head up against the wall and Jabsco’s body relaxed. Charon carried the knocked-out Commander back to the smoothskin. She was in the middle of hand-to-hand combat with a large man, although he was still smaller than Charon. The Talon Company merc had a combat knife and so did the smoothskin. They circled around each other like dogs about to fight. Charon waited until the man’s back was to him and he grabbed his arms, wrapping him in a bear hug. 

The smoothskin giggled, elated with the fight. She cocked her head, looking at the man in his grasp. “Guess you didn’t see Charon. Too bad,” she teased. She turned and walked away. Charon slit the man’s throat and dropped him in a fluid motion. This was a side of his employer he had not yet seen. She was ferocious and unforgiving. Charon tried not to think about how alluring she looked.

 _God, I'm fucked up,_ he thought. 

*** 

When Jabsco opened his eyes, he felt that his hands and feet were bound. He struggled until he noticed a girl watching him. She smiled largely at him. 

“Glad to see you’re with us,” she beamed. Jabsco looked around and saw the massive ghoul from before lurking behind her. His arms were crossed and Jabsco could tell from experience that this man was lethal. Jabsco shifted his gaze back to the girl. “See,” she started, “I was minding my own business trying to sleep in my own bed, when three Talon Company tried to kill me. Tried to rape me.” 

She cut her eyes to him, and suddenly he was terrified. “What I wanna know,” she continued, “is why.” She smiled at him again. “Can you help me with that?” she asked, still showing her teeth. 

Jabsco struggled to speak. His throat felt like it was on fire. He finally managed. “Who are you?” he coughed. 

“I’m the Vault Dweller. I’m looking for my dad, James. Have you seen him?” she asked. 

“We were hired anonymously,” Jabsco croaked, “to kill you and your father. So far, we haven’t been able to find James. Rumor is he’s in Rivet City, but that’s too well-protected. So we settled on you.” He looked at her nervously. “It was nothing personal,” he stammered. 

“Hey,” she laughed, “business is business.” He laughed awkwardly with her. She seemed to be reasonable. _I’ll probably make it out of this,_ Jabsco thought hopefully. She leaned towards Jabsco and pulled the pack of cigarettes out of his front pocket. She started tapping the box on her leg.

“Charon,” the girl called out. “Would you mind to take care of business?” she asked apathetically. The ghoul strode towards him with a knife in one hand. With the other, he unbuckled the bracers of his armor. Jabsco looked over at the girl in horror. She was sitting down in his chair with her feet propped up. She lit a cigarette with a match. Her lips locked onto the cigarette, her cheeks hollowing as she inhaled. She flicked the ashes in his general direction before exhaling through her nostrils. Smoke billowed out like a dragon’s maw, curling up and around before disintegrating into nothing. 

“Business is business,” she repeated, and took another drag off her cigarette. 


	11. Hollow

On her way out the door the smoothskin grabbed the bag that she had stashed, out of a locker. She hummed as she swung the bag around her hand. Charon looked down at her back. He still felt slightly bloodthirsty. Killing Jabsco had been…satisfying, but Charon felt hollow afterwards. _I always feel hollow_ , he thought. _Unless_ _I’m killing something_ , he added. Charon sighed. 

“Charon, Cha-ron, Ch-charon,” the girl began to sing, turning to look at him. “I was just singin’ you a song, Charon,” she said before glancing down at his leg. Her eyebrows knitted together. “Why didn’t you tell me you got shot!” She exclaimed, dropping her bags. She kneeled down in front of him and Charon had to stare up at the sky to avoid thinking about what her face was dangerously close to. 

“It was just a scratch. Besides, you told me if I got shot to not complain,” he replied casually, still staring up at the dingy sky. Charon refused to look down. 

“I was JOKING,” she sighed, exasperated. “Sit down so I can treat it.” He walked slowly to a nearby tent, making sure to walk in his normal even gait. He pushed a merc corpse onto the floor and sat down on a cot. It creaked under him. She followed him in and knelt in front of him again, forcing his eyes upwards. He could feel her settle in the space between his knees. “You’re lucky this was just a graze,” she said chidingly, and Charon grunted in reply. He didn’t trust himself to speak. She dug around in her bag for a minute before pulling out a bottle of irradiated water and a Stimpak. She rinsed off the wound with the water and Charon grimaced slightly. Her hands were light and gentle, and when he felt the pinch of the Stimpak, he made the mistake of glancing down. She was focused on his leg, not paying attention to where here hands were going. He knew she was looking at him in a purely medical sense, but that didn’t do anything to help the growing discomfort not three inches above her hands. He had the urge to push her away, but he felt paralyzed. When she removed her hands, he let out a breath that he didn’t realize he had been holding, and she glanced up smiling. “All better!” She chirped. He prayed that she wouldn’t notice what she had done to him. If she did, she had a good poker face, because she immediately stuffed her things back in her bag before exiting the tent, Charon following behind. 

She continued to hum the same music she had before, and he closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the sound. She ended up humming the entire way back to Megaton. The sound was... pleasant, and Charon didn’t complain. 

*** 

They were able to make it to Megaton without much incident. They took the same route back, so it was deserted. The moon had been lighting their path for a couple of hours when they walked up on Megaton’s gates. Sarah mused. It seemed that she always got home late. Ever since she left the Vault, Sarah’s sleep schedule left much to be desired. When they got to her house, she set down her bags. She needed to check on Gob and Nova. 

She yawned, "Charon, you can stay home, but that I need to go out." She was surprised then when he followed her outside. She took the back way into the bar, preferring it to the bridges and walkways that filled Megaton. Even at night, people tended to stop and talk to her, and she wasn't in the mood for that right now. To be honest, she was rarely in the mood for that. She walked in though the back door and when she saw Gob facing away from her, she sighed with relief. _Simms didn’t blame him for Moriarty._

*** 

When Gob turned and saw Vaultie standing behind him, he grinned. Walking quickly towards her, he grabbed her tightly, wrapping her up in a large hug. 

"Vaultie," Gob said, his voice thick with emotion. He always worried about her when she left Megaton. He knew she was capable, but in the Wastes sometimes it was just sheer luck that brought you back home. She was so young and good. ‘Good’ wasn’t really a great word, but just the same she was good, which couldn’t be said for many in the Wasteland. He was still squeezing her to him when a hand clamped down on Gob's shoulder. He followed the hand up, to the arm, the shoulder, the face of Charon. He was half-cast in shadow, and all the more terrifying for it. Gob paled. 

"Charon, he's okay," the Vaultie said and just like that the pressure on Gob's shoulder was gone. He released her, glancing back at Charon. 

"Vaultie, you'll never guess-," he began. 

"Gob, I will listen to you forever if you pour me a whiskey, neat," the Vaultie interrupted. 

Gob smiled. "Sure," he said pouring her a glass. She nodded to Charon and Gob poured a second glass. 

"How much do I owe ya?" she asked, digging around in her pockets. 

"Shit, Vaultie. I'm not taking your money," he said, putting his hand up. 

"You sure your new boss will be okay with that?"

Gob grinned ecstatically. He almost vibrated with energy. "The bar's mine. Simms said since no one else was close enough to Moriarty, so he gave it to me." A light took over the Vaultie's face and she laughed, clapping her hands together. 

Raising her glass she said, "To Gob's Saloon!" She downed it, and Gob filled it as soon as she set it back on the table. Charon was still nursing his first, and Gob noticed the way he watched everyone in the bar. He could no doubt kill someone as easily as Gob could open a beer bottle. "How's Nova?" Gob looked down, blushing. When he looked up, the Vaultie's mouth was gaping open. 

"What..." Gob said, uncharacteristically gruff. He and Nova weren't making anything public. _God knows if anyone found out..._ Before he could think any further, the girl had launched herself across the bar top, wrapping her arms around Gob's head. _She's like a damn leech,_ Gob thought. Blinded and off-balance, Gob fell behind the bar with a loud thud. A shriek followed shortly after, right next to his ear. Trying to extract himself, Gob wiggled until the Vaultie leaned back. Other patrons turned to stare, but when they saw it was the Vaultie, they left it at that. The people around here were used to her antics. She kissed him on both cheeks, squeezing his face in-between her hands.

"I'm so HAPPY for you two!" she squealed, squeezing his head again. 

"You're gonna pop my head off you keep this up. And keep it down," Gob grumbled, though not unkindly. She let him go, and for the first time, Gob noticed the thunderous expression on Charon's face. He looked like Death come to steal his soul. _Jesus Christ, he's a collared monster._ Looking back at the person who held the leash, he smiled half-heartedly. "She's upstairs if you wanna talk to her." Vaultie's eyes lit up and before he could say another word, she was gone, like a mirage. That left him and... Gob tapped his fingers against his leg... Charon. Getting up, he started wiping the bar. It was almost 30 minutes before Nova and the Vaultie came back downstairs, arm-in-arm and laughing about some private joke that Gob probably didn’t want to know. 

"Sadly," the Vaultie said, dropping Nova's arm, "we have to go. No rest for the Peacekeeper of the Wastelands!" The three of them laughed. When the Vaultie turned to leave, Charon silently got up to follow. 

Nova's eyes roamed over Charon, then slid to Gob. As soon as the door closed behind them Nova whistled. "Sarah's sure got her work cut out for her." Gob didn't have the heart to ask her what she was talking about. 

*** 

Charon didn't really know much about these two friends of his employers, but she seemed to trust them, so he tried to ignore them as best he could. When he heard them talking, he was able to pick up from the conversation that the ghoul was apparently dating the prostitute now. Although he assumed she had quit prostituting, so he guessed she was just a bartender now. He had never heard of a ghoul and a smoothskin dating before. Prostitutes of both kinds had all sorts of customers, but anything more than bumping uglies was a different story. His employer seemed to have no problems with this. In fact, according to her reaction she was ecstatic with the relationship. _Maybe she's interested in you._ Charon dismissed the thought before he could seriously entertain it. She wanted a friend, and he was thinking about trying to slip into her pants. _I really am a piece of shit._

*** 

It had been nice to chat with Nova. She had given her all the dirty details about Gob. More than Sarah necessarily wanted, but it was nice to have a girl-friend again. Ever since Amata- _No._ Sarah stopped herself. Amata was nothing to her anymore. Nova had asked about her travels, and more specifically Charon. The way Nova phrased it had made Sarah blush, and after that no amount of dissuading would convince Nova that they were barely friends and she was really just his employer. _It was just Nova's teasing that made me bush_ , Sarah told herself. 

She hated to leave the bar so early, but she couldn't put off Rivet City any longer, and she needed to prepare in order to be able leave soon. She organized her bedroom and her bag, taking things she didn’t need out like her blanket to make more room. Satisfied with her work, she cracked open her door. She looked at Charon’s door but it was closed. Padding across the floor, she knocked. The metal was cold under her bare feet. After a few moments he opened the door. 

“Yes?” Charon asked, looking down at her. She walked past him, and sat on his bed, nonchalantly. She crossed her legs. Looking at her fingers, she picked under her nail. Charon looked at her, slightly irked. 

“I want to leave for Rivet City soon,” she admitted. “This is the second person who has pointed me there, and I’m running out of other ideas of where dad could be.” She hesitated. “I'm not sure which way to go. The subway system is safer, but it's also longer,” she said. 

“Is that all?” Charon asked. She laid back on his bed and looked at him. 

“I’m still too wound up; I don’t think I can sleep,” Sarah said sheepishly. Charon stared at her for a while before turning around. Sarah heard him moving something on the table. When she turned to look she realized that his weapon was in pieces. She watched as he effectively and efficiently cleaned each piece and then started to put the gun back together. _He spends most of his life cleaning his gun_ , she thought. 

"Maybe you can teach me to clean my weapons sometime. Half the time I get them jammed," she said. He grumbled in response. 

Sarah openly stared at Charon’s muscled back. His t-shirt was thin and faded, and she could see his muscles move beneath his shirt as he worked. She needed to get him some new clothes. _Maybe you can help him try them on_ , a dark part of her mind whispered. She wasn't sure where this part of her was coming from. She hadn't ever been attracted to anyone in the Vault, and it wasn't like she could talk to her dad about it. But recently when she looked at Charon an area deep in her chest got warm and her stomach felt twisted. _We just became friends, if you can even call us that. I'm just his employer._  

Trying her best to ignore those thoughts she eventually leaned back and listened to him clean his gun. Sarah’s eyes grew heavy at the tinkering sound. The background noise was soothing and Sarah relaxed. She snuggled into his pillow, half asleep. It smelled like the soap she had given him, with just a hint of salt and the fresh air that Sarah only ever smelled deep in the Wastes. The cologne she had used was strong and masculine, with hints of spices and citrus, and a musky scent that Sarah couldn’t identify but it smelled earthy.  _It smells like Charon_ , Sarah thought as she drifted off to sleep. 

*** 

When Charon finished cleaning his gun, he turned around. As he looked at the smoothskin asleep in his bed, he sighed. Kneeling down beside her, he watched her sleep for a few minutes. “You shouldn’t tempt a monster,” he whispered in her ear. He ran his fingers through her hair. She was snoring lightly. He stood up and gently scooped up the girl to take her to bed. He glanced down at her as she snuggled into his chest. She felt smaller when she was sleeping, more fragile; like one jostle and she would shatter between Charon’s fingers. 

“Charon,” she mumbled. He froze. He was terrified that she had woken up. What would he say? He wasn’t ready for her to look at him with her soft, brown eyes. Not when they were this close. Looking down, they were still closed and Charon sighed with relief. She felt warm through his t-shirt, and he realized that he didn’t feel as hollow when he was touching her.


	12. For Science

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I promise I didn't die, but I'm working two jobs and going to school this semester, so sadly this had to go on the back burner. But I'm gonna try to start putting out at least a chapter a month, at least. Hopefully you all enjoy

Sarah was still rubbing her eyes as she walked downstairs to get breakfast. She didn’t remember falling asleep last night. Sarah blushed slightly. She hoped that she had drowsily taken herself to bed. The other option was… embarrassing, to say the least. She was so preoccupied that she almost ran into Charon’s back as she turned to enter the kitchen. 

He turned around, holding her supply bag. She realized that he had been replacing what had been used on the last trip. When he saw her, he nodded. Sarah smiled in return before reaching around him and grabbing a box of Fancy Lads off the shelf. 

She opened her box of food and began eating before she was even sitting on the couch. He stood awkwardly, watching her. 

“You eat already?” Sarah said, cocking her head. He was just standing there, watching her. 

“No,” he said, shaking his head. 

“Oh. Not hungry?” Sarah asked. She wasn’t quite sure how a ghoul’s metabolism worked. 

“You did not tell me that I could,” Charon said, before turning around and walking to the kitchen. Sarah jumped up, stuffing the last snack cake into her mouth before joining him. She realized the only times he had eaten since he had been with her, were times she had specifically given him food or told him he could eat. 

“Woah, woah, woah. Charon, there’s none of that. If you want to eat, eat. If you want to drink, drink. I mean, don't get drunk in the middle of fighting raiders, but you know what I mean. Shower, sleep, read, do whatever you want,” Sarah said, brushing past him to the fridge. “Now what do you want?” 

“Food.” Sarah turned around, rolling her eyes. She was about to call him a smartass, when she realized he was being serious. 

“O-kay, well. What kind of food?” 

“Whatever you wish,” Charon said, shifting his feet. She could tell this was making him uncomfortable, but she wasn’t sure why. 

“I’m asking. What’s your favorite?” 

“I don’t have one,” the ghoul said. 

“Well, there’s only one solution to that,” Sarah said, a cheerful grin on her face. Though Charon appeared stoic as always, Sarah thought she could detect a hint of intrigue, but maybe that was wishful thinking. “You’ll just have to try it all!” She began grabbing different boxes and bowls from the fridge. She even grabbed a Nuka Cola from the fridge upstairs. After setting everything on the coffee table she patted the couch. “Now,” she said, looking over the mountain of food in front of them, “what first?” 

Charon shrugged, so Sarah threw him a box of Blamco Mac and Cheese. Pre-War technology never ceased to amaze her. Thinking back, one of the most surprising parts of the Wasteland when she first left the Vault was the food. When she opened a box of Instamash for the first time, she followed the directions, putting the pouch in another pouch. Afer pouring water in the second pouch and waiting a few minutes, she was astounded to open the first pouch and have hot mashed potatoes. In the vault, the mashed potatoes came from actual potatoes grown right there. Any packaged food had been eaten long before she was born. Not that she should complain; most people in the Wastelands would kill to live in the Vault. _And you ran away._

While Charon prepared one box, Sarah opened first a box of Dandy Boys, then another box of Fancy Lads. She kept opening food, until there were beans, mirelurk cakes, piles of food placedprecariously on a too-small table. Charon looked at her, then the food, then back to her. His mouth opened and closed. Sarah stifled a giggle. He looked very much a fish out of water. 

“Well, eat up.” Sarah waved him towards the food. He moved slowly, and Sarah curled her feet up under her legs. This could take a while. 

*** 

Charon felt like he was in another dimension. There was a veritable feast before him, and this smoothskin, his employer, was trying to get him to eat it all? He had watched other employers gorge themselves many times, but he had never been offered more than the bare essentials. Ahzrukhal withheld food frequently, more as fun game for him than any wrongdoing on Charon’s part. When she asked him what his favorite food was, he had been confused. Confused as to why she cared, and confused that before this, he had never really thought about it. He just ate what was given to him, trying not to focus too much on the details. When he was a child surely he had a favorite food, but the memories got so faded after 200 years. His childhood was bursts of colorful memories and then blackness. Charon grabbed the box of Instamash. She had told him to eat, and this would be a terrible waste of food… 

*** 

Sarah, who had snatched some of the Potato Crisps and Dandy Boys, was watching Charon eat with an enthusiasm that surprised even her. He had plowed through the Instamash, and everything else for that matter. He was currently scraping the bottom of a can of Pork n’ Beans, licking his spoon. Wrappers and boxes were strewn all over the table, but she didn’t mind. Wordlessly, she got up and began gathering up the trash, putting it in a bag by the door. One of the good things about the Capital Wasteland was that the world was literally a trash can. They could just drop it off anywhere on their next run. She turned to walk back to the couch, when she bumped something large and solid. Surprised, she looked up and realized it was Charon. She took a small step back, nervous for some reason. It was an odd sort of nerves, not like when she was out in the Wastes afraid for her life, but more of a fluttering that settled right below her ribs. He leaned around her and put the can in the bag by the door. 

“Thank you. It has been a long time since I have eaten that well,” Charon said carefully, his shadow falling over Sarah’s face. 

“Which one was your favorite?” she asked, cocking her head. 

“Thank you for the food," he repeated, turning around. He walked back to the couch and sat down. 

“C’mon, Charon. If you tell me yours I’ll tell you mine,” Sarah bubbled. Flopping down on the couch beside him, she poked his shoulder, and froze when he flinched. Sarah leaned her head against the couch and closed her eyes. The bright lights on the ceiling showed through Sarah’s eyelids and she rubbed the bridge of her nose. She could feel Charon shifting in his seat. 

“The Salisbury Steak was good,” he said finally. His words were measured, and when she smiled at him brightly, he met it with suspicion. Sarah hummed with satisfaction. She decided it best to not push him any further. They sat there in silence for a few minutes, before Charon turned to look at her. 

“What is your favorite food?” Sarah’s eyes widened. Was he… asking her something? About herself? She had promised to tell him, but she didn’t think he really cared. 

“I like mutfruit, not the crunchy ones though,” she said, screwing up her face. If he heard her, or cared, he didn’t acknowledge it. They sat like that, in silence, except for Wadsworth puttering around upstairs. Sarah was comfortable, but they had work to do. 

“Charon, you know D.C. better than me. What’s the best way to get to Rivet City?” she asked, breaking the silence. She pulled up a map of the Capital on her PipBoy. Charon stared at the map silently for a few minutes, his face tilted close to hers as they looked at the map together. 

“You were right last night. The best route is going to be through the sewer system.” He pointed to the map as he continued, “We’ll enter here, and exit right in front of Rivet City. Otherwise we’ll have to go up the coast. Mirelurks, raiders, and Super mutants the whole way.” She nodded. 

“We take the subway.” 

*** 

Charon was surprised that the smoothskin had chosen the subway. Hell, he had been surprised she had asked for his opinion. The tunnels would cost them almost an extra day of travel, essentially doubling the trip. She didn't strike him as the most patient of people, and he had assumed that she would choose to go the quicker route. The subway was safer, but he wasn't looking forward to the trip. He hated the subway. Hated what was down there. Hated being there. 

As he prepared his travel pack, he thought about the way the smoothskin would knit her brows together when she was trying to get her way. Charon chuckled to himself. He froze. He couldn’t remember the last time he had done that. _That’s a lie_. He remembered exactly the last time he had genuinely laughed like that. 

*** 

Charon was running. Colorful posters zipped past as he squeezed through the crowd. The subway was bright and clean, the tiles shown under his feet. He heard his mother call out, and he made his way back to her. She was scowling. 

“Charon, you know you can’t run off like that.” She leaned over and whispered, “The Pint-Sized Slasher will get you!” Her hands reached out to him in the shape of claws, opening and closing as they drew towards him. 

Charon’s father laughed. “Ginger, don’t go filling his head with urban myths. He’s a boy, they run off, they come back.” Charon stuck his chest out. 

“I don’t believe in that stuff anyway. I’m 7 now,” he stated, rather hotly. She laughed and hugged him. He wriggled free, looking around to make sure no one he knew saw him hugging his mom. She pretended to be hurt, covering her face. 

Charon pulled on her sleeve until she leaned down and he whispered, “I really do like your hugs, but I can’t let anyone know.” 

“You two coming?” Charon’s dad asked, looking over his shoulder. “We’ll miss the 9:45 if you keep fooling around. 

Charon’s mom stuck her tongue out at his father’s back and grinned at Charon. They set off after him, wading through the crowd. Without saying anything, he gripped his mother’s hand tightly in his own. It felt safe and warm. They had only just squeezed to the front when the railway car pulled up. People filled in, and the doors slid closed with a click. Charon looked up and watched the lights flickering. The subway always scared Charon a bit. _But that was before I turned 7,_ Charon thought. He wasn’t scared anymore. Charon’s father looked at him and winked. He pulled a fake spider out of his pocket and began slowly lowering it until it was resting on his mother’s shoulder. When she finally noticed, she screamed, earning a disapproving scowl from the rest of the train. Charon and his father burst into peals of laughter, while his mother hit both of them with her purse. Charon was still laughing when the train slammed to a stop and the lights went black, loud vibrations rocking the ground around them.

*** 

 

A knock on his door made his eyes flicker open. "Come in," he said, not having the energy to get up and open the door. She pushed it open, and he noticed a med kit in her hands. 

"Before we leave I wanted to give you a physical. Make sure you were doing okay. I'm sure you haven't been to a doctor in a long time. Do you mind?" 

"I'm fine," Charon mumbled, still sitting on the bed. None of his employers ever spared the caps to take him to a doctor. There had been many nights he had spent fishing around in his own body for shrapnel. 

"Come on, I'm not going to hurt you. Now let me give you a physical," she said. Charon doubted she realized it, but that last sentence was an order, and he was compelled to follow. 

"Okay," he gritted out, standing. Whether she noticed or not Charon wasn't sure, but he hated this. He didn't want her to examine him, but when an order was given his body wasn't his own. It was his employer's. The second he tried to disobey, the symptoms started, growing worse by the second until he fulfilled the order, or passed out. He had never been able to resist long enough to pass out. And he had tried. 

“Alright, normally I have people fill out a patient history sheet, but I’m guessing you would leave it blank,” she said, chuckling at her own joke. 

“We’ll start with the basics,” she continued. “Name?” she said looking over him. He pursed his lips in response. “Is that Charon with a ‘C’ or an ‘S’?” she asked, struggling to keep a straight face. His scowl deepened. “Charon, I was only playing. But honestly, take off your shirt. For science, of course.” She was making no attempt to hide her grin. 

Still frowning, Charon wordlessly got up and took off his shirt. _Another order._  He remained standing, eyeing her with annoyance. She began prodding him, her fingers tracing over his skin. Charon was disgusted with himself. He avoided looking at himself most of the time. He didn’t want to see his milky eyes staring back at him. His skin was cracked and leathery. His muscles exposed. A freak. _She’s interested in me, but only to study, and because every other ghoul has enough self-respect to say no,_  he thought to himself. _No, not self-respect,_  he corrected, _just the ability._ He bit his lip in anger. 

*** 

Sarah was excited to examine Charon. She kept telling herself it was for science, but, if she was being honest, it wasn’t. When she had told him to take off his shirt, she hadn’t expected him to concede so quickly. When he lifted his shirt over his head, her lips parted slightly as she looked at his bare chest. 

 _I was right,_ she thought. The skin is mostly intact on his chest. It was tight along his abs. He was thin, but his muscles were still defined. He was a wonderful specimen out in the Wastes, ghoul or not. A small patch of skin had come off right above his left hip, and a slightly larger patch across his right pectoral. Other patches dotted his skin, but those were the largest. She traced her finger over his chest, feeling the corded muscle beneath the thin layer of epithelium. Charon shuddered in place, but didn't move away from her. His skin felt like worn, softened leather. She grabbed her stethoscope and began listening to his breathing, then his heart. It was irregular, trachycardia… or was it tachycardia… She made a note in the chart. She checked him over, and even gave his a stimpak to be sure, but he seemed to be in good health. 

“Almost done,” she said, looking up at him. Charon’s jaw was set, and his lips were held together in a thin line. He seemed to be intently focused on the empty space in front of him.  She realized all at once how uncomfortable and tense he looked. _If he wanted to say no all he had to do was…_ Sarah trailed off. 

“Charon,” she said quietly. “Did you do this because I ordered you to?” 

He nodded, curtly, not looking at her. 

“Charon, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. You don’t have to. If you didn’t want to-” Sarah started. 

“What? I could’ve said no? That’s the thing, Smoothskin, I can’t,” he said angrily, grabbing his shirt off of the bed. 

“I didn’t think…” 

“No, you didn’t,” Charon said. "Can I put on my shirt now? Are you done poking the freak?" His shirt was fisted tightly in his hand. 

"Of course-" she started, but before she could continue Charon pulled on his shirt and left the room. Sarah was left standing in the empty room. She grabbed her stuff and headed downstairs, regretting her callous mistake. 


	13. We All Have a Little Weakness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This semester has been the busiest of my life. Because of that this has fallen on the back burner. But actually listening to Adele's Hello made me want to write more. (I know, super corny.) But there you have it. Enjoy, and for FOFever who commented yesterday, thanks. I kinda got discouraged about this, so I wasn't in a rush to post it. But when I saw your comment it really was awesome. Thanks, I appreciate everyone who reads this. I hope you love it.

"I've got it!" his employer said suddenly. He gave no indication that he had heard her. They had left Megaton about an hour ago, if Charon's reading of the sun's position was correct. Neither of them had said anything since they left Megaton. Charon was still aggitated about being ordered to present himself like an animal at an auction. It wasn't the ordering itself; he was used to employers telling him what to do. It was the vulnerability of what she had ordered him to do. He felt like a weird bug being poked with a stick, and, though he didn't have much pride, no-one liked being treated like an insect.

When she stopped walking, he turned to face her, irritated. "Okay, I messed up, and I'm sorry. I didn't realize it, but that doesn't excuse it. So, for the next time I mess up, because I'm an idiot and will, just say 'phrasing.' That way I know that I need to rephrase the statement. Ehhh?" she said, extending her hands palm out, like she was looking for his approval. Charon couldn't believe she was serious. She was essentially giving him a semblance of free will. He could say "no." 

"Phrasing," he said, trying the word out. _Don't get too excited. She can take it away anytime she wants. Don't pretend you have any power, any freedom._ Still, it was more than anyone else had given him. 

"Exactly!" she said excitedly. "And how about this, to make it even, you tell me to do something and I'll do it. No matter what. Okay?" she nodded, her bizarre logic making perfect sense to her. 

Charon furrowed his eyebrows. His employer couldn't be serious. Order HER to do something? Charon felt like he had been abducted into another universe. 

"Come-on, you can tell me to eat a bug, or lick a rock, or pour Pork-n-Beans on my head. Ooooh, one time Butch and Wally held Freddie down and made him eat a raw onion," she twisted her face when she said onion. When he didn't say anything, she squeezed her hands together. "Charonnnnnn, come on Charon. You gotta have something." 

"Do a backflip?" he said, more as a question than anything. He didn't really have anything else, and he knew she was acrobatic, so he figured she would be able to do it. A dark part of him wanted to order her to take off her shirt, but he shoved it down deep inside. She stuck her tongue out at him. 

"Is that all? I mean, okay," she said, dropping her bag. "Can my hands touch or do I have to tuck?" she asked as she walked to an open area. 

"It doesn't matter," Charon responded nonchalantly. 

"Hey, you're the boss. Gotta pick something." 

She stood there, waiting until Charon finally said, "Tuck." 

"You got it," she affirmed, before launching herself backwards, tucking her knees to her chest before landing lightly on her feet. Her arms were extended out from her sides, like a performer. "How was that?" she asked excitedly. "Even? Or you want me to do one more?" 

"We're even," Charon answered. She picked up her bag and lightly nudged Charon with her elbow. It was lighthearted, and Charon didn't flinch for once. 

"Alright then, let's hit the road- er, dirt? Dirt road?" she corrected herself. From experience, Charon knew they would be in the Metro Station soon. 

*** 

As soon as they walked into Metro Central, Charon heard the sound he dreaded. Only one thing made that sound. Another screaming hiss radiated from the darkness. Mostly naked, the source of the sound sprinted towards his employer, ignoring him completely. Ferals ignored regular ghouls, looking at them as a sort of brethren. A mistake in this case, Charon thought. His palms were sweaty, and his fingers hesitated on the trigger. 

 _This is my fate. One day, I’ll be as mindless as they are._ Charon waited a moment more, before shooting the ghoul between the eyes. It tumbled to the ground, its momentum carrying it forward. It tumbled to a stop, all angles and limbs, its milky eyes looking at Charon. _This is what you are…this is what you will be_ , a voice yelled in Charon’s head. He nudged the body with his foot until it was face down. 

When he turned around, the smoothskin was looking at him with concern, or pity. Charon never really could tell the difference. His face hardened and he turned away, continuing on through the subway. 

*** 

When Sarah saw the feral ghoul, she aimed her gun, finger on the trigger, but before she could shoot it crumpled to the ground. When she looked over at Charon, he was staring at the feral with an odd expression on his face. He walked over to it and rolled it over with his foot. When he saw her staring at him, he scowled and walked away. Sarah followed silently, deciding it was best to stay quiet. Sarah winced when she heard more hissing in the train station. There were at least five from the sound of it, maybe more. 

Sarah jogged up to where Charon was standing, staring into the darkness. Just then, a feral ran up the stairs. It was emaciated, taught skin drawn against ancient bones. As it hissed at her, spittle flew from its mouth and Sarah noticed it’s rotting teeth. The feral ghoul stared at her alone, one milky eye seemingly larger than the other, giving it an almost quizzical look. As it ran past Charon, he grabbed by the throat and stabbed it through the larger eye with his knife. Sarah noticed that his hands were shaking, and even in the dark he looked pale. 

“Hey, um, if you want, I can do this. You can fall back and I’ll take care of them,” Sarah offered. Without acknowledging that she had even spoken, he walked towards the stairs, firing twice. As Sarah followed behind him, she found a trail of feral corpses. Her gun was out, but it wasn't needed. Every feral fell before him, never giving Sarah the opportunity to even fire off a round. His eyes were wild, and his lips were curled back to reveal his teeth. 

"Hey," Sarah whispered when she finally got close enough to touch him. Before she could rest her hand on his shoulder, Charon whirled around. His breathing was ragged, and his entire body was trembling. "I can do this." 

“Why the fuck should I fall back, smoothskin? Because I’m one of them? Afraid I might turn on you? Or are you going to order me to fall back?” he bellowed, his voice echoing through the station. Charon was letting himself get into dangerous territory. 

“I- I was just sayin-,” Sarah stammered, backing up slowly. Almost unconsciously, her weight shifted to the balls of her feet, ready. For what, she wasn’t sure. 

“You say too goddamn much. I’m not your fucking charity case,” he snapped. 

"I never said you were!" she retorted, her voice booming down the subway. 

"You're the one that bought me," he accused. It wasn't fair, but he was so angry and she was the only one he could take it out on. The moment he said it, he regretted it, especially when her face crumpled. She leaned against the nearest wall and slid to the ground. Charon stood above her, looking down. She tucked her knees to her body and rested her chin on them.

"When we get back to Megaton, you can stay home. I'm not there most of the time, so you can do whatever you want. Would that make you happy? I want you to be happy, Charon. I need you to believe that," she sighed. "I did buy your contract, and I've been selfish. I get so lonely out here and I thought you being with me would take that away. But I didn't consider your feelings or what you wanted. I'm sorry I'm a shitty employer." Her eyes were focused on the toes of her boots as she spoke. _It's not like there's a manual for this_. Sarah had realized early on that despite her efforts, sometimes she did shitty things. It wasn't on purpose, but it didn't change the fact that she fucked up. How do you apologize for something like that? 

*** 

Charon sat down next to her and she glanced at him. "You aren't a shitty employer," he said. "This is... new to me," he continued. It was hard for him to put it into words. She wasn't like his other employers, she wasn't even like other Wastelanders. He could experience the world without shutting everything off, but that meant dealing with everything he tried to hide away. 

“I’m sorry,” Charon continued, his voice ragged. “Truth is, I’m afraid,” he admitted. 

“Afraid of what?” the smoothskin breathed, almost like she was afraid of breaking her silence. 

He laughed, darkly, “I’m afraid of turning into one of those creatures, forgetting who I am. Afraid of _remembering_ who I am. Who I used to be.” He turned his head away and stood up. “But most of all,” he paused, “I’m afraid of you.” 

*** 

 _He's_ _afraid_ _of me._ Sarah worried over this admission, trying to figure out what he had meant by that. They had started deeper into the subway, her Pip-Boy lighting most of the way. Thinking about Charon fearing her made Sarah's stomach clench in self-disgust. When they got back,he could stay home. She could leave him some caps and let him be. Surely she could convince Gob to check in on him. Maybe another ghoul would be better than a smoothskin like her. 

Sarah barely noticed when they entered the Museum Station, until she heard voices and crouched. Charon heard them too and slowed down. Together they crept up the stairs and the first thing Sarah noticed was a pool table in the middle of the room. She couldn’t believe that someone had gone through the trouble to move a pool table into the subway. Before she could dwell on it, one of the Raiders playing pool noticed them and picked up a baseball bat leaning against the table. He twirled it around. His hair was dyed dark blue and stood out in odd patches from what Sarah could only assume was a poor shave job. He was covered in a fine layer of grime from head to foot. 

“What do we have here?” he chuckled. “Beauty and the Beast? I’m gonna enjoy fucking Beauty on the Beast’s dead body,” he said, licking his lips. Charon pulled out his knife and snarled. He moved fluidly, like a snake, and the man’s filth-stained shirt blossomed red. 

After that, Charon and Sarah moved quickly through the Raider camp, trying to avoid detection. They had just cleared the last room when she felt something cold press hard against her neck. 

*** 

“Hey, Charon,” he heard his employer say. Her voice was light, but it had an uneven tilt to it. When he turned around, he saw why. A raider had his switchblade pressed up against her throat. She had her palms up, facing him. Before he could think he took a step towards her and the raider tightened his grip. A thin line of blood appeared on the smoothskin’s neck and Charon froze. Nausea washed over him, and he had to push down the thought of vomiting. 

“Smart ghoul,” the raider said. “Now drop your weapons, all of them.” Charon hesitated for only a second before dumping all of his weapons in a pile in front of him. 

“Good,” the raider said. The raider leaned into his employer and kissed the nape of her neck, leaving a dark, wet mark in his wake. “I think I’ll keep this one as a pet. Ghoulie, get the fuck out of here before I put a bullet in your brain.” Charon stood frozen in rage, until the smoothskin’s eyes caught his. She was nodding him out of the room, and he obeyed, against his will.

He was at the bottom of the stairs when he heard a gunshot. Running back up into the room, he found her crumpled on the floor. When he turned her over, Charon could see a stab wound in her thigh. It had missed her femoral artery by only centimeters, but it was deep. Charon could see a white hint of bone that he tried to ignore so panic didn’t overwhelm him. Meanwhile, the raider was lying in a pool of his own blood, moaning slightly. Charon left him to his own fate.

“I totally had this,” his employer said faintly. She was bleeding heavily and when he touched her, her skin was cold and damp. There was so much blood Charon's hands were wet and sticky as he pressed on her thigh, her blood bubbling around his fingers. He took off his belt and undershirt, pressing the shirt to her wound and locking it in place with his belt. He had to loop it several times in order to find a hole, and he was reminded of how small she was. His jaw clenched. Charon scooped her up then, and carried her to one of the rooms in the subway that had a bed. It was dirty, but it was all they had, so he set her down gently. He then ran back to grab their bags, before furiously digging through them until he had all the medical supplies laid out. 

“Charon, you’re gonna have to stitch it up. Squirt a Stimpak in there before you do. It’ll help,” the smoothskin said, her head lolled back. He words were starting to slur together. “Give me the Med-X and something to bite on,” she said lifting her head up enough to look him in the eye. “And... you can’t suture my leg like this, you’re gonna have to take off my pants. I would do it, but I don’t think I can move my leg.” He watched her try to lift her leg, but the makeshift bandage he had tied started seeping blood at the small movement. 

He moved beside her and began undoing the fastening to her pants. His fingers were clumsy on the zipper, and he heard her chuckle slightly, but the sound was weak and sickly. “I thought you’d be better at that,” she mumbled. He considered asking her what she meant by that, but he was too focused. 

Charon tried to maintain her modesty, but it was difficult when his hands were sliding over her pelvis, down her thighs, and over her calves. He had to make sure her underwear didn’t slide down with her pants and he blushed at the thought. Her skin was pale and soft, and he found himself wondering what the rest of her looked like underneath her clothes. _Not the time_. The blood dripping down her thigh snapped him back to reality and he quickly handed her the Med-X and slipped off his belt. He squirted a Stimpak into her wound, but didn’t notice too much of an improvement. 

Once she had his belt between her teeth, Charon began suturing her skin together. The smoothskin tried not to move, but occasionally she would let out a muffled groan, making Charon hate himself. When he finished, he injected her with the last three Stimpaks they had with them. When he looked up, her eyes were closed and Charon quickly placed his ear against her chest. When he heard a heartbeat he sighed with relief. He lifted his head and brushed his hand against her cheek. She was cold, and Charon placed his hand firmly against her cheek, warming it. He was surprised when a limp hand was placed over his. 

"I’m not going to die that easily," she promised before drifting into unconsciousness. Charon watched over her the rest of the night, checking her regularly to make sure she was still alive. He wanted to believe her. 


	14. The Trusted Bodyguard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is one of four chapters that I have just finished. They will be uploaded over the next few days, so enjoy all the Charon and Sarah love/angst. Hopefully I'll have time to write a couple more before the break is over so I can spread out the publications. Or I can post it all at once because I have no self control. We'll see what happens. Anyways, enjoy!

Sarah couldn’t remember much the next morning. Her mind was fuzzy, and her leg was throbbing. Reaching down, her fingers ran along the uneven skin of her sutures. The memory of the raider stabbing her came back, causing a wince. The skin was red and swollen, but didn't look infected, yet. Charon had done a good job with the sutures. She shivered. There was a fire burning in a barrel in the corner of the room, but the room felt like ice. 

"You're awake," Charon said. He was sitting on the floor, with his back against the wall. She tried to speak, but her throat was too dry. Pushing herself up, she leaned on the bed for support. 

"Water," she finally choked out. He quickly handed her a bottle of purified water. Sarah drank the entire bottle, relishing the cool liquid on her throat. She shivered again, her teeth chattering. "I-Is th-there a b-blanket in my b-bag?" she struggled out. She watched as Charon dug through her bag, dumping out its entire contents. No blanket. It was summertime, and she remembered thinking she wouldn't need it. She laid down on her side and tried to tuck her legs in, but a jolt of pain from her thigh ended that idea quickly. 

"Can y-you put my B-Brahmin skin p-pants on me p-please?" she knew she wouldn't be able to do it herself. The pants were crumpled on top of the pile of things that Charon had dumped out of her bag. He brought them over to her. He slowly lifted her injured leg, sliding the pants up to her knee before setting it down and repeating it with the other leg. 

"I'm going to have to pick you up," Charon said, glancing up to her. Sarah knew her face was flushed. Last night she had been in so much pain it didn't register, but it had dulled to a low throb. Now she was just painfully aware of his hands on her body. She had been examined by doctors before, but somehow this felt different, more intimate. She nodded her permission, and his arms went under hers, lifting her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her face settling on his shoulder. The wound in her thigh throbbed, making her vision go blurry. His hands traveled down to pull her pants up the rest of the way and she blushed deeper. Once he had finished, he wrapped his arms around her waist so she could let go. When she did, Charon and her made eye contact. He was so close Sarah could see past the milky discoloration of his eyes. They were a bright blue, like the sky on a cloudless day. They were beautiful. 

*** 

Charon was still a man, and putting pants on his employer was testing the limits of his celibacy. The night before he could at least focus on keeping his sutures straight, but today it was just his hands against her pale legs. He tried not to glance up to her face, but when he did, the smooth skin was blushing a crimson red. Apparently she was as uncomfortable with this as he was. 

It was when he picked her up that he started praying to God that she couldn't feel his erection through his armor. It wasn't like he could help it, and it had been a very, very long time. Her shirt didn't cover her underwear, and he swore he tried not to look, but it was hard not to see the shapely curve above her thighs. He breathed a sigh of relief when he was finished, but when he went to let her go, her face was so close. Her eyes bored into him, trapping him. Finally, he couldn't take anymore and he set her down, rougher than he should have. She yelped in pain when she hit the bad and Charon felt a pang of guilt. His employer laid back down on the bed, still shivering. Charon hadn't thought the pants would help much, as they were thin and loose. With all the blood she was lost he was surprised she had any strength at all. She needed a doctor, but she wasn't fit to travel yet. Rest was more important now. 

"Charon," she said quietly. He could see her shoulders trembling. 

"Yes?" he said, 

“I-I'm sorry to ask this, but would you lay with me? I'm so cold, I can't stop shaking." Charon hesitated, his reason raging with his desire. She hadn't ordered him, so technically he could refuse. Ignoring this option, he carefully removed his armor, leaving him in just his shirt and pants. Charon edged onto the bed, holding his breath. He carefully avoided touching her, precariously placing himself at the edge of the bed. His employer, however, had no qualms and molded her body against his. She sighed in relief. Her trembling gradually stopped, and her breathing was deep and even. Her head was rested against his arm, snuggling into the crease of his elbow. 

*** 

Sarah had been embarrassed to ask Charon to sleep on the bed with her, but the cold won out, and once she was pressed against him, the pleasure of his body warmth erased any lingering embarrassment. Drowsiness came quickly, and soon Sarah was fast asleep, tucked into Charon while he laid stiffly beside her. 

*** 

 _There's no way in hell I can sleep like this_. Charon had only been with a few women. Always one-time encounters like Greta, where the opportunity arose and Charon had no reason to refuse. But it had always been a quick affair in a dark room, and when Charon was finished he didn't stick around for the "afterglow," as people called it. God, he wanted her. She was beautiful, young.  _She doesn't want you._ She had her whole life ahead of her. With someone. _Someone that isn't you._ Someone human.  _What happens when you have to stand outside while she's with another man? A normal man._ He hated the thought of her with someone else.  _I just need to get laid,_ he thought, which was easier said than done, when you looked like Charon did. He reminded himself that he was just a live heating pad, but it was hard with her injured leg slung over his, and her arm draped across his chest.

Her Pip-Boy screen was facing him, which only served as a tortuous reminder as the minutes on the clock crept slowly by. An hour turned into three, which turned into five, while she slept. His muscles protesting at the four-hour mark, eventually Charon relaxed against her. He could see how this appealed to some people. Having something soft and warm to lie in bed with was nice, in a way. Charon wondered if any of the women he'd been with had wanted this afterwards.  _Probably_ , he thought.  _But you_ _aren't exactly Mr. Nice Guy._  The only reason he was doing this at all was to keep her warm. He made a mental note to pack a blanket next time, but that dark little voice inside that was always whispering told him not to. 

*** 

When Sarah began to wake up, her eyes blinked as she shifted her body, but something warm and solid stopped her. When her eyes fully opened, she glanced up at Charon, confused, before her face flushed crimson. Her arm was across his chest and her knee was-. Sarah pushed against his chest and sat up, wincing as the sutures in her leg pulled at each other. The bed squeaked as Charon stood up, stretching his muscles. He had only been gone a few moments, but Sarah already missed his heat. She hadn't slept so well since leaving the Vault. He was like a safety net draped over her while she slept. _Selfish_ , she criticized herself. 

Charon was already grabbing food from their packs. He brought her back a box of Dandy Boys, some Potato Crisps, with a water bottle and a Mutfruit set neatly on top. Sarah liked to think he remembered her favorite, although more than likely it was just a coincidence. Before she could eat, however, he took her arm and injected her with another Med-X before she could protest. 

"Hey!" she yelped as the needle stuck her skin. He looked at her like an unruly child, before nodding to the food. Still sullen, she began tearing into the food while Charon enjoyed his own box of Salisbury Steak. He may not have remembered, but she did, and she made sure his pack was full of his favorite. When she finished, Charon collected her trash and tossed them in the barrel fire. The food made her tired, but she struggled to stay awake, so she could plan what they were going to do now. 

"I can't walk on this leg," Sarah stated, looking at Charon. 

"Obviously." 

"So that means either we wait here for it to heal, or you can carry me to Rivet City. Waiting will take a couple weeks at least without Stimpaks, but it's your back, so I'm giving you the choice. What do you want to do?" she asked. He was quiet and Sarah assumed he was thinking. 

"We should wait a couple more days, then I'll carry you. Movement now could rip your stitches and I'm not sure I can get the bleeding stopped again if that happens," he said cautiously. Sarah liked his answer, it was practical and safe. 

"We'll have to lighten the load on gear if you're carrying it all," Sarah realized. She began making a mental list of items they could live without. 

"I'll manage," he said stoically. She rolled her eyes at him and he pursed his lips back. _It's kind of like a conversation_ , Sarah told herself. 

"Well, we at least can eat all the food. No sense in it going to waste." Just talking had been exhausting, and she started to lean back when she had a realization. 

 _Oh no. No, no, no._  Sarah was horrified, but the need was getting more intense and couldn't be ignored forever. 

"Charon," she said, her voice wavering. "I, uh, I need to go to the bathroom." If she hadn't been so mortified, she would've laughed at Charon's face, though he covered it quickly enough. Without saying anything, he left the room and was gone for a few minutes. When he came back holding a bucket, Sarah nearly cried in embarrassment. He set it down next to the bed, and walked back out of the room. Sarah scooted to the edge of the bed, cursing the asshole Raider that had stabbed her every inch of the way. When she was finished, she stared at the bucket helplessly, wishing it would disappear forever. Noticing some papers littering the floor, she covered the top, hoping to maintain a shred of her dignity. 

After a few minutes, he poked his head in, and seeing she was done, grabbed the bucket and set it over in the corner of the room. Now mentally and physically exhausted, Sarah leaned back in bed, the old springs squeaking under her. She was still cold, but it was tolerable now, and she had suffered enough embarrassment for one lifetime. She was surprised then when Charon got back into bed with her. His warmth was intoxicating, and almost without thought she snuggled into him, using his shoulder as a pillow. 

"Thank you Charon." In reply, he grumbled, the sound rolling out of his chest. The vibrations were pleasant, and Sarah fell back asleep, leaving Charon watching guard, as always. 

*** 

Three days passed in a similar fashion. He made sure she ate, gave her what medicine they had left, and stayed next to her while she slept. Even when she was awake, more often than not his body was pressed up against hers. If she wasn’t cold anymore, she didn’t say it, and he didn’t ask. When she was awake, she talked to him about different things, like when she bathed in the river. She told stories about growing up in the Vault, something about a goat. She talked about coming aboveground for the first time, and that instead of being terrified, she had felt free. Charon could understand trading safety for freedom. There’s not a lot of things he wouldn’t do for his. 

Charon could go a long time without sleep. It was something of a specialty of his, but even four days, especially when most of it was in bed, was difficult for him. On the last morning Charon woke up with a start, his eyes snapping open. He could feel the smoothskin draped over him like always, but instead of his arm laying on the bed behind her in its normal place, it was wrapped around her tightly, his fingers resting on her ribs right below her breast. He was terrified to move, afraid that she was already awake, afraid that any movement on his part would wake her. As if on cue, her fingers drew lightly across his chest, tracing shapes and patterns. He glanced down and she was clearly awake, and had been for some time if looks were correct.

”You should’ve woken me,” he said quietly.

Without glancing up, she continued brushing over his chest with her index finger. “You needed sleep. Up until now, I wasn’t sure you even did sleep.” She stopped her fingers, settling her head into his chest, struggling to get closer. It was like she was trying to climb inside of him. 

Once she was settled, Charon thought about dropping his arm from her, but the movement didn’t come easily. He could feel her heartbeat through her ribs, the rythmic rise and fall of her breathing. It was... comforting.

”Charon, tell me something about yourself,” her voice was low and quiet.

”Phrasing,” he said, almost a whisper. He was still afraid that this was a cruel joke, just to reinforce that he had no control. She tensed up.

”I’m sorry,” her voice was soft and sad. She sounded almost disappointed. In herself? In him? Charon wasn’t sure. “Will you tell me something about yourself?”

He was quiet for a long time. What could he tell her? What did he _want_  to tell her? 

“Before the War, there were libraries that were filled with books. The shelves were taller than I am now, and they stretched, row after row, about anything you could possibly imagine. I would spend hours there reading about anything and everything I wanted. I miss it.” Charon tried to keep the sadness out of his voice, but knew he didn’t succeed. 

“I’m sorry,” she breathed out.

”I know.” 

***

“I’m ready,” Sarah said. Charon assumed his position on the floor and Sarah wrapped her arms around his neck, looping her legs around his waist. She grunted in pain, but it wasn’t unbearable. Her leg had been healing for three days, but without any Stimpaks it would take weeks to even be weight-bearing, much less fully functional, and that wasn't time Sarah had. Charon grabbed his pack and slung it over one shoulder. In the end, Sarah imagined Charon looked like an over-packed caravan Brahmin. 

He had taken care of her the whole time. She slept most of it, but he stayed in bed with her, keeping her warm. She realized that all of this was due to his contract to protect his employer, but sometimes Sarah let herself think that maybe he did care for her a bit. She thought about this morning, when she had woken up to find him sleeping, his arm wrapped tightly around her. His face was so gentle when he slept, Sarah had struggled not to touch it, knowing that would wake him. She had settled for nestling back into his chest, tracing her fingers wherever her eyes went.

As they made their way slowly through the subway tunnels, Sarah watched her Pip-Boy more carefully, watching for any threats. They stopped more frequently, so progress was slow. The traveling had opened up Sarah’s wound, and the flesh around it was starting to swell. Her pants eventually bled through, creating a large, wine colored splotch down her thigh. Every time they stopped Charon examined her leg, his scowl getting deeper with every stop.

As dusk approached, they reached Anacostia Crossing Station. There was a large, squat ship resting in the water, broken cleanly into two level pieces. One piece was noticeably larger, with a watch tower that rose out of the center. It was an impressive structure from before the war, and even more so now, dilapidated as it was. Sarah could easily see why people had scrambled to live there after the bombs fell. It was impossible to attack directly, without a massive force. Raiders couldn’t get along well enough to work in groups of more than ten, and super mutants weren’t smart enough. It was safety that couldn’t be matched anywhere else in the Wasteland. Sarah could feel Charon staggering up the stairs. It was easy to see that he was exhausted, even without the occasional tremble of his legs. He never complained once though, and during their stops hadn't slept, even though she told him he could. She felt guilty for allowing him to help her so much. She needed to do better, to be better. 

The last few yards were the worst, and Sarah was afraid that they wouldn’t make it. They even passed a vagrant, and Sarah wasn’t sure who looked worse, him or them. But she did grab three bottles of water and toss them to him. The man grinned up at her, his teeth and gums black with sludge. She was unsure if Charon even noticed, his attention was so fixed on getting them to Rivet City. When Charon pressed the intercom, Sarah couldn’t believe it. They had finally made it. A huge metal bridge swung towards them and they crossed it slowly, where a man met them in the middle. He frowned at Charon before looking up at Sarah. 

“Hold it right there,” the man said, raising his gun. “State your business in Rivet City.” 

“Other than the fact I’ve been fucking stabbed? I’m here to see Dr. Li. She knows my father,” Sarah said, venom in her voice.  _What are we gonna do, rob the damn place?_  she thought. As if reading her mind, Charon turned his head and his lip twitched in a semi-smile. 

“Who is he? If he lives here, I know him,” the guard said, hand still on his weapon. 

“He’s from a vault. Just let me pass; why does it matter?” Sarah said, irritated. Her leg was becoming a constant throb in her head and she wanted it to be over. 

“You can pass, but cause any trouble and you’ll be face down in the river, got it?” 

“Got it,” Sarah said indifferently. Turning her attention back to Charon, “Charon, I don’t know how much I’ve got left in me. Just get us a private room and fix my leg. Or find someone in this goddamn boat that can. Pay whatever. I honestly don’t give a shit how much, okay?” 

He grunted, and Sarah relaxed against his back. She trusted he would take care of everything. She was being selfish with his contract, she knew that. But she hadn't trusted someone this much since leaving the Vault. The rest was a blur of voices and lights, until she was in the blissful dark. She vaguely felt herself being set down on something soft, but it wasn't warm like Charon was. 

*** 

It had taken Charon damn near forever to find the hotel and rent a room. Luckily the robot working didn’t discriminate against renting to ghouls, even ones with a passed-out humans on their backs. The other patrons gave them more than a few passing glances, but they either didn’t care, or were too smart to ask questions. Once they were in the room he quickly began rewrapping the smoothskin’s bandage so she didn’t bleed out while he was buying supplies. Once that was done, he found the Market and bought two blood packs and three times as many Stimpaks in the market. Charon used up five of the Stimpaks on her leg, before injecting her with Med-X and setting up the blood packs.

Once that was taken care of, he slouched. Charon was exhausted. Carrying her and the bags all day had tired him more than he wanted to admit. He grabbed the other pillow to sleep on the floor when he heard the smoothskin moan. 

“Charon,” she mumbled weakly, her eyes still closed. He knew what she wanted, and a deep part of him wanted it too. He settled into the bed and she curled into him, still asleep. His arm wrapped around her protectively, and for the first time in four days, Charon consciously went to sleep. 


	15. Anything For a Fix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have no self control, so here you go. Enjoy. Maybe cry, I don't know. Love the comments and the kudos! If it wasn't for you all I probably would've given this up a while ago. Shout out to my lovely editor LemonTwister as well. She's the best and no you can't have her. Happy Holidays!

She wasn’t sure exactly where she was, but Sarah knew she was in Rivet City and she trusted Charon, so she waited for him to return. Her leg was already painful and when she noticed a bottle of water with some Med-X sitting on the end table, she injected the medicine directly into her vein. It was more dangerous that way, but it also worked twice as fast. She sighed back into her pillow, letting the drug take her away. She heard her Pip-Boy beep loudly, but honestly she didn’t even care.

She only lifted her head when she felt someone grab her and shake her roughly. She could tell that it was Charon and she smiled vapidly. He had a man with him in a white lab coat.  _Dad_ , she thought, tears falling down her face. He had found her father. It was finally over.

***

When Charon came back, the Med-X needle was still in her arm and she was limp. When she lifted her head, her eyes were glassy and unfocused. Her Pip-Boy beeped and he lifted the smoothskin’s arm and turned around to show Dr. Preston.

“Fix her. Her leg is getting worse. 300 caps if you make her better,” Charon said. Dr. Preston nodded and rolled up his sleeves. Charon stepped back from the bed, watching. Tears were falling from the smoothskin’s already sweat-soaked cheeks, and Charon felt helpless. He was at the clinic as soon as it opened the next morning, and had practically dragged Dr. Preston to their hotel room. Now he just paced the room, watching the doctor work, until he suggested Charon step outside.

“The robot sells drinks. Sit down and try to relax. This will take a while,” the doctor said gently. Charon grunted and slammed the metal door behind him. He took a seat at a rickety table that wobbled to one side and the robot, named Buckingham, floated over.

“How may I serve you, sir?” he said, politely. Charon ordered three beers and waved the robot away. He really just wanted to be alone. He was drowning in the third bottle when a couple of Wastelanders came in laughing.

They were practically identical, in that while they didn’t necessarily look alike, they seemed interchangeable with one another. No distinguishing features, just nondescript and bland. They sat down at the bar, still joking amongst themselves, when they noticed Charon sitting in the corner.

“Hey John, do you smell somethin’?” one of the men said, nudging the other.

“Yeah, you know, something smells…rotten? Hey bolts, you let something die in here?” the second man said to Buckingham. Charon struggled to ignore them, deciding it best to not even look their way.

“Hey, you, corpse. You smell anythin’ rotten? Actually, can you smell?”

“Probably not, Jesus Christ, look at him. Got one foot in the grave already, eh?”

Charon gripped his beer tighter, staring into the brown glass, trying to control the welling rage in his chest. One of them got up and walked over to the table, sitting down across from Charon.

“Looks like he can’t hear either. Wonder if them parts under ‘is armor works?” he asked, tapping Charon on the forehead with one finger. Charon’s hand snaked up and grabbed the man's hand in a vice grip. Both men were so surprised that it took them a few moments to process it. The man seated in front of Charon tried to snatch his arm away, but he only managed to bump the table as he struggled. It wobbled back and forth and the last of Charon’s beer fell to the floor, dribbling out. Charon squeezed, bending one of the man's fingers to touch the back of his hand. The man screamed louder as Charon squeezed tighter. 

“Go,” Charon growled, his voice leaving no room for debate. He let go of the man’s hand, and steadied the table and didn’t even look up when he heard a door open and close. Picking up the now-empty beer bottle, he wished it was still full and that he had a thousand more to drown himself in.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the smoothskin scream from her room. He jumped out of the chair, his longs legs quickly crossing the room. Opening the door to her room revealed Dr. Preston pinning her shoulders down while she thrashed wildly.

“Hold her legs down! She’ll rip her stitches!” the doctor yelled. Charon ran over, pressing his chest against her shins. She struggled for almost ten minutes before she finally collapsed, exhausted. When he was sure that she was calm, the doctor stood up, fixing his disheveled hair and glasses.

“She’s in withdrawal now. I gave her some medicine to make it easier, but this will be nowhere near easy. I have other patients, but you must stay with her for the next 48 hours. If her fever spikes, call me immediately.”

After the doctor left, Charon sat down on the bed, brushing away the sweat-soaked hair that clung to her forehead. She was mumbling incoherently, twitching every now and then. Her eyes flickered beneath her eyelids, and her breathing was rapid. Hours passed like this. Charon remained watchful, occasionally checking her temperature.

It was late, and Charon was checking her temperature yet again when the smoothskin suddenly opened her eyes. Her eyes were clear and focused. She reached up, caressing his cheek, running her fingers along the ridges and planes of his face. Her eyelids lowered and she moved her hand down. Tracing her thumb over his lips, she curled it in, pulling his lower lip down slightly. It was seductive, and Charon felt his desire for her mounting with each second.

“Charon,” she whispered, her chest rising and falling. She was breathing so hard Charon could feel it filling the space between them. She pulled him towards her, tracing her lips along his cheek. “Don’t you want me?” she asked, her lips a hair’s breadth from his. He gave in, grinding his lips against hers. She was soft and warm, and Charon felt the need to devour her. She tasted sweet, like the Mentats she occasionally popped in her mouth like candy when she thought he wasn’t looking. Her tongue darted into his mouth and he moaned. She kissed her way down his neck, licking the taught skin, leaving a trail of crackling energy in her path. Charon groaned at the sensation, his fingers digging into the flesh of her arms. 

“Charon,” she whispered into his neck. “I just need some Med-X and we can do whatever you want.”

Immediately Charon realized what this was, that she was just trying to use him to get a fix, and he snarled in disgust. He shoved the smoothskin back to the bed and sat in the chair in the corner. Charon had wanted to believe that she actually wanted him. He was so willing to buy into it that he ignored all of the warning bells going off in his head and kissed her anyways. He wanted nothing more than to walk back over to her and crush his mouth against hers, but it wouldn’t be real. Charon didn’t want a cheap imitation of her. He stayed gone most of the next day, checking in on her for a few minutes every hour. Every time he came in it started a new torrent of screaming and begging. Luckily, she never outright commanded him to give her the Med-X, so Charon was able to ignore her requests.

Occasionally he would give her some water, pouring it in her mouth slowly. At some point in the night, she began scratching her arms, digging the skin away in long furrows. He eventually had no choice but to tie her arms up above her head. The scratches were shallow, but it took the last of their Stimpaks to heal them. By the end of the second night Charon was exhausted, and he hoped it would be over soon. He tried constantly to not think about her mouth brushing against his, but it was like circling a drain. Eventually that’s where his thoughts ended up. _The only way she wanted to kiss you was addicted to Med-x._  It was hard to accept, and hurt him in a way that he couldn’t explain. He didn’t blame her; it’s not like she knew what she was doing. But it was still a bitter pill to swallow.


	16. Calm Before the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a tiny chapter, but it's building up to something BIG. Hope you all enjoy the next little bit. Also, constructive criticism is always welcome! If you see an error or something I could improve let me know! This goes for all chapters! As always, hope you enjoy!

When Sarah stretched the next morning, her arm only moved a few inches before it was jerked back. Immediately, she thought back to the Talon Company and her stomach dropped in fear. She panicked and pulled at her ties, but they didn’t give.  _How long have I been asleep?_   Her head whipped around wildly in panic, until she finally noticed Charon sitting in the corner and relaxed. If he was here, she was safe.

“Charon,” she called out softly. His eyes were closed and his head was resting on his elbow. He opened his eyes and looked at her, but he made no move to get up.

“What do you want?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Well, I’d love a double stack of Mirelurk cakes. Jesus Christ, I’m starving. Also, can you let me go?” Sarah said, shaking her arm in their restraints. She couldn’t believe when she saw Charon smile at her, large and genuine. He crossed the room and untied her.

“I think I can find you some Mirelurk,” he said, still grinning. It was more than a little unsettling. Still flabbergasted, she waited as he left the room, humming slightly. She honestly didn’t know he could hum. If she hadn’t been afraid of ruining his good mood, she would’ve made a joke about it. When he came back, he was carrying a plate brimming with Mirelurk Cakes. Steam rose up from the plate and her mouth watered so much that she almost didn’t notice the man in a white lab coat behind Charon. When she saw the older gentlemen she felt disappointed, but she wasn’t sure why.

“Hello dear. I’m Dr. Preston. I’ve been treating you for your leg, and for the addiction.”

“Addiction to what?” Sarah asked, confused.

“Med-X. You were taking it for your leg, but your body became addicted. Luckily, your friend helped you through the past few nights.” Sarah glanced over at Charon, but he was purposefully looking away.  _What happened while I was out?_  she wondered.

“Now, let’s take a look-see at that leg,” the doctor said before she could dwell too long. She watched while the doctor was examining her and saw the jagged wound in her leg. It was still slightly swollen, but looked like it was healing. The doctor injected her with some more Stimpaks, which almost instantly reduced the remaining swelling. Sarah paid the doctor for 10 more, and put them on the end table for later. Once the doctor had left, Charon sat down at the edge of the bed and handed her the still-warm food. It was difficult to remember the last time she had eaten anything and the food quickly dwindled in front of her. When she glanced over at Charon she paused mid-bite and swallowed, handing him a couple Mirelurk Cakes. Charon nodded his thanks.

“Charon, what happened?”

“You were delirious. You screamed, clawed your skin. I apologize, but I had to restrain you,” he said gruffly.

“Is that all?” Sarah asked, curious. She felt like she was forgetting something important. There was something she was trying to remember, but every time she tried, it slipped out of her grasp. 

“No,” he said, begrudgingly.

“What happened?” she asked, curious. Sarah was nervous; what had she done?

“You…tried to seduce me in order to get Med-X. It was luck that you never gave a direct command to provide you with Med-X. I hope you understand I would’ve had no choice but to comply,” the ghoul said, looking anywhere but her. She suddenly recalled a hazy memory of Charon kissing her, of her trailing kisses down his neck.  _Surely that can’t be what happened._ It seemed almost like a dream, and realizing it wasn’t, Sarah blushed heavily, her entire face turning crimson. Apparently, those thoughts that she'd been trying to push down had come bubbling to the surface.  _Med-X is a real bitch._

“Charon, I’m sorry. I wasn’t myself. Please forgive me,” she pleaded, touching his hand on the table. He grunted and pulled his hand away. She wasn’t sure, but she thought that meant she was forgiven, or that he hated her. She wasn't always sure when it came to Charon.

***

Of course she wasn’t herself. If she was, she would’ve never have been so desperate as to kiss him. Hell, she could walk into any bar in the Capital Wasteland and guys would be foaming at the mouth to take her home. She could have her pick of men, and they all had their skin. Again, Charon thought about the possibility of her bringing some guy home. Charon gripped his fork tighter. He could almost hear her moaning his name, this phantom guy. Charon had no doubt that the contract would hold him in place, and his stomach churned. When he noticed the smoothskin looking at him, he glanced down, realizing he had bent his fork completely. He dropped it on the table. He wasn’t hungry anymore.

 ***

Finishing the rest of her food left Sarah more tired than she thought and she leaned her head against the pillow. Thinking about earlier, about Charon, made her nervous. She thought about him for a while, until she couldn’t hold her eyelids open any longer.

“Charon, did you really stay up for two nights watching me?” she asked, already drifting off to sleep.

“Yes.”

“Then you need sleep more than I do. Please come to bed. I promise I won’t even take advantage of you,” she joked, but the way that Charon whipped around made her think that he didn’t find that funny at all. Sarah flinched, realizing how uncomfortable he was. “I’m sorry, but seriously. You need sleep. I would offer to sleep on the floor, but I think Dr. Preston would have a Brahmin."

Sarah watched him hesitate, before finally sliding into bed next to her. She could tell that he was being careful to avoid touching any part of her body, which stung her pride in a way. When she clicked off her Pip-Boy, it beeped once before she took it off and set it on the end table. She snuggled deeper under the covers. After a few minutes of silence she looked over at Charon. In the dark, all she could see was his silhouette.

“Are you still awake?”

“Yes.”

“Charon, can we talk?”

“Yes.”

“Can you say something other than yes?”

“Yes.”

“The other night-”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?’

Charon didn’t say anything back, so she felt around in the bed until she found his hand. She grabbed it, interlocking her fingers with his and squeezed them tightly. After a minute, Sarah thought he squeezed back.


	17. Love Died With the Nukes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas Eve! For y'alls Christmas present I present to you my most angsty chapter yet. Yeah I know, my chapters are all angsty, but I think this one takes the cake. The chapter title alone is angsty haha. Also finishing up the next chapter so you get something that will take the edge off of this one. I hope you enjoy, and as always kudos and comments are adored. You all are great!

The doctor had ordered a week of bed rest, and Sarah was chomping at the bit to get out of the hotel room. It had already been three days, and she had quickly exhausted her meager supply of books, leaving her with nothing to do but stare at the metal ceiling, counting the bolts and following the jagged lines of sheet metal as far as she could. Charon had not been the best conversational partner, though he had abided by the doctor's rules to the letter, hardly letting her out of bed to go to the bathroom. 

"I'm so bored!" she finally whined. Charon glanced up. He seemed to have no problem sitting quietly for hours on end. Sarah had no idea how he did it, but she didn't have that skill and she was slowly going crazy. "Can we DO something?" she asked desperately. 

"You need to stay in bed," Charon replied, as if that settled the matter. 

"We could play a game, or you know, just talk?" If she counted the bolts on the ceiling again, she was sure she would go mad. 

"What would you like to talk about?" Charon's monotone voice told her what he thought, but she really didn't care. 

"Well, I mean we travel together, but I hardly know anything about you. Like what's your favorite color? Did you ever play sports? Is your real name Charon? Did you have a family?"

"No." 

"No what? Your name isn't Charon?" 

"No, I'm not playing this game with you." Of course. Sarah was always reading more into their relationship than was really there. Everything that had happened since they left Megaton had been because of his contract. Just because he occasionally talked to her didn’t mean he liked her.  _He did it because he HAD to,_ Sarah thought bitterly. After this he could stay at Megaton. He would be happier there. Being alone with him had started causing a pain deep in her chest, though the thought of being out in the Wastes without him gave the same feeling. She had been used to being alone before, she could get used to it again.

"Okay, Charon," she said resigned. 

***

As far as his past employers had been concerned, where he came from or what he wanted didn't matter. He was like a lamp or pistol: useful, but backstory wasn't really needed. He had never told anyone he had a family. He didn't want to talk about them. It was like talking about them made it more real. Made what happened to him more real.  _You're living it. It can't be more real than this._

Maybe he shouldn't have closed her down so quickly. He thought about her asking to be friends. That's what friends did.  _Being a lamp was easier,_ Charon thought sardonically. 

"My favorite color is green," Charon finally admitted. He couldn't see the harm in sharing that piece of information. She visibly perked up after that, although he could tell she was dying to ask other questions.

"Wait, you don't have a favorite food, but you have a favorite color?" She finally asked, cocking her head to the side.

"I miss green. It used to be everywhere. The trees, the grass. There were woods that went for miles. Thick, tall trees that were older than I am now. The leaves all wove together, blocking out the sun. Even when the wind wasn’t blowing the trees rustled gently, like the trees were whispering to each other. The forest had so many different shades and tones. It was beautiful." It wasn't like Charon to wax poetic, but it was the truth. He did miss it. Now the world was a brown barren rock, stripped of everything. 

"I would've liked to see that," she mused. "My favorite color is blue. I had never seen the sky before I left the Vault. I know most of the time it’s grey and hazy, but the first time I stepped out of the Vault it was so clear and blue I thought I was standing in a giant dome. It felt larger than anything I had ever seen before. I never felt so small, but I had also never felt more free."

They sat in silence for a little while, but it didn't feel awkward, not to Charon at least. "I never knew my mother. She died giving birth to me, or so my father said. I don't even know if that's true anymore. I'm sure it's hard for you to talk about your family. I'm sorry if I pried, but if you ever want to talk I promise I'll listen," she offered. She sounded so caring that Charon struggled to process all the conflicting emotions he felt.

You didn't survive in the Wastelands by trusting people, but more and more of him wanted to trust her.  _Where would I even start? How I ended up like this? How I murdered my own family?_ He bit the corner of his lip until it bled. His employer was laying down and didn't notice. Charon was alone with his thoughts, like always. 

***

Her Pip-Boy ticked, the seconds sliding by slowly as she waited for them to roll around. When it finally said 12:00:00 AM, she jumped out of bed with excitement. Shrugging on some clothes, she grabbed a small satchel of caps and was out the door. Charon followed automatically, as always. She walked out of the hotel and walked down one corridor, then another. She went slowly, favoring her leg. It didn't hurt, but she didn't want to press her luck and end up back in bed for another week. She found some stairs, and decided to see where they went. It was weird, having spent an entire week in one place and not explore any of it. They followed the staircase down to the end, where a neon sign blinked at them.

“The Muddy Rudder,” Sarah said, reading the sign. Walking inside, she realized it was a bar. She sat down at one of the swivel chairs and ordered two whiskies, neat. It was nice just getting to be out again, and Sarah tapped her foot on the bar railing, enjoying the background noise of the people around her. Charon was sitting at the bar to her left, silent as usual. When their drinks arrived, she passed the bartender some caps and slid Charon’s drink over to him. Sarah was halfway through her second drink when a familiar voice made her turn around.

“Well I’ll be a Tunnel Snake's dick! If it isn’t the Sarah from the Vault!” Butch DeLoria said, squeezing her tightly in a hug. Sarah saw Charon move, and she stopped him with a flick of her hand. She was curious about what exactly he would’ve done, but she decided she liked Butch better alive. Well, most of the time. Turning her attention back to Butch, she smiled, patting him on the back.

“Butch! I can’t believe it’s you!” She was actually happy to see him, which said something for how desperate she was to see a familiar face.

“Yeah, yeah, I got a pretty sweet gig here. I’ve been barbering for a while now. Gets me enough caps to drink. You know, the important stuff,” Butch said, sitting down next to her. “Since you saved me, I’m pretty sure I owe you one. Want do you want?”

“Whiskey neat,” she said, half to the bartender, half to him.

“That’s it! Old goody-two-shoes Sarah would’ve never been caught drinking, much less with me,” Butch laughed. She guessed he was right; she had changed since she left the vault. It was hard to decide if it was for the better or not.

They started drinking, and she realized it was good to have someone from home to talk to. They laughed about Andy always going on the fritz, and that time Paul Hannon wet himself in the 2nd grade. Time passed inconsequentially, and Sarah was waist deep in her fifth whiskey when Charon quietly asked if she needed his assistance back to the room.

“Jesus Christ, is this guy with you? He hasn’t said a fucking word all night,” Butch said, peering around Sarah.

“Yeah, this is Charon. He’s with me,” she said. Her voice told Butch she didn’t really want to go into more than that.

“Well, just let me know if ever want to come back to my place. For a haircut…or whatever else,” Butch said, smiling.

“I will!” Sarah said, smiling back. She knew what Butch was proposing, and though she wasn't interested, Sarah would've been lying if she said she didn't appreciate the attention. Being out in the Wastelands, covered in dirt, didn't exactly make her feel feminine. At least  _someone_  was interested in her. She glanced towards Charon. Butch had just scooted his seat closer to hers, when she felt a hand clamp down on her shoulder and twist her around. Before she realized it, she was halfway out the door, with Charon dragging her. Butch started to say something, but one look back from Charon was enough to make him sit back down.

Sarah was furious, and drunk, and furious. How dare he treat her like a fucking child? That was her friend, sort of. She could talk to whomever the hell she pleased. She pulled away from him, whirling around. The hallway spun a bit, and Sarah steadied herself against the stair railing.

“What the fuck was that Charon?” she yelled. She saw his jaw clench, but he didn’t speak. Sarah pushed against his chest, knocking him back a step. “Fucking say something. I was drinking with my friend and you’re gonna treat me like a child? I can handle myself, Charon.”

***

Charon opened his mouth, then closed it. The smoothskin was standing in front of him, seething. To be honest, he wasn't sure why he had pulled her away. He just thought about her going back to that guy's room... She wasn't in the right state of mind to be making decisions like that. At least, that's what he told himself. He was protecting her.

“He was hitting on you. I was trying to maintain your wellbeing. I didn’t want him to take advantage of you in your inebriated condition,” Charon reasoned calmly.

She exploded. “Who are you to stop it? What if I wanted to go home with him? What if, for once, I wanted some companionship where someone actually said something back? I mean, do you care about me at all, or am I just your employer?” she asked, her voice loud and shaking.

Charon knew deep down that he never had a chance with her. Anyone was better than him, even that whelp in the leather jacket. He was being selfish, but he needed to stop teetering on the edge. They couldn’t be friends. They couldn’t be more than friends. He was done. He needed to close this door before he let himself be vulnerable. He hardened his face, leaning down to her.

“You want to know the truth? Fine,” he said, his voice dripping with spite. “I would fuck you. I see your tight ass and big tits. You’re a fine piece of tail anywhere, god knows. You're my employer and I'm required to make sure I keep your ass alive. But I don’t care about you. I want to fuck you, just like every other man in the goddamned Capital Wasteland, but don’t mistake that for giving a damn about you. Love died with the nukes, sugar. So if you want me to fuck you let me know, but don’t expect me to stroke your hair and whisper sweet nothings afterwards.”

Before Charon finished, he could see her eyes welling up with tears, but he had to keep going. He could see her lip quiver, but the fact was he couldn't hate himself anymore than he already did, so he kept going. When he finished, she wiped away her tears and glared at him. Her eyes were still wet, but she set her mouth in a thin, tight line, before sucker punching him right in the jaw. Now, he had been hit, a lot, but damned if she didn’t hit with the best of them. He could feel his jaw swelling, and knew the bruising was soon to follow. The thing was, he wasn't even angry. He deserved it. When he managed to look up, her back was disappearing around the staircase. He followed along, rubbing his face. She hadn’t sold his contract.  _Yet._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uploading the next chapter tomorrow, so you don't have to wait so long with this heartbreak.


	18. Sweet Nothings

 Without even turning around Sarah knew that Charon was behind her. He was always behind her, and right now she resented it. He was just with her because he was fucking required to. In the morning they were going back to Megaton, and he could stay there. She didn't need him. She didn't need what he had to offer.He was attracted to her, but it didn't make her feel like she thought it would. Instead she felt cheap and... sad. Sarah just wandered through the ship, not really knowing or caring where she was going.

The whiskey was still floating around in her head, but she was going to be damned if she let Charon see anything short of a strong, capable woman. She couldn’t bear to be in a room alone with him right now, so instead settled on walking the corridors of the ship. When she thought about what Charon had said, her stomach curled. She tried to convince herself that she didn’t care about him or what he said, but the alcohol made her emotions raw and she couldn’t do it. She wandered aimlessly, trying not to think about Charon or why she cared about him at all. It wasn’t hard for her mind to put a list together, even though she didn’t ask it to. 

Charon had been forced into a situation where he had no control over what he did or who he hurt. He had to act on the whims of others, forced to do things that Sarah couldn’t imagine. Most people would have turned cruel and bitter, lashing out angrily to try and make anyone and anything hurt as much as they did, like a chained dog. Charon was definitely angry, but Sarah had never seen him be outright cruel. Actually, given the opportunity Charon was quiet and gentle, sometimes even kind. He was strong and fearless, without being rash or acting without thought. Sarah respected him, even admired him. Whoever had trained him and tried to break him hadn’t been able to completely erase the boy that loved libraries and the forest. 

Sighing, she passed the same sign for the third time. She had no idea where she was, but she would’ve rather slept in the hallway than ask him where to go. When she finally saw the sign for the hotel, she decided to call it a night. Mostly because she wasn’t sure she could find it again. She wanted to blame being lost on the alcohol, but her head had been clear for a while. She just had a shitty sense of direction, which was ironic considering how similar this looked to where she had grown up. 

Walking past the robot, she went into the room and waited for Charon to enter before shutting the door. Sarah sat on the bed, unlacing her boots, and watched as Charon went over to the chair in the corner. He sat down, back straight, staring at nothing. For some reason it infuriated her.  _How can he just not fucking care about ANYTHING?_

“No,” she said out loud, standing up. Charon looked over, stoically as she walked over to the chair and looked down at him. It was a satisfying feeling. For once, she could look down at him. Leaning down, Sarah gripped both arms of the chair. She was eye level now.

“What’s your fucking problem?” she said, her eyes narrowing. For once, he looked almost surprised. Charon tried to compose himself quickly, steeling himself behind that hard mask of his, but Sarah wasn’t having it. She pushed his shoulder. “No,” she enunciated with another push. “I wanna know, Charon. I deserve to fucking know. I thought we were friends, Charon. Was that just another bullshit part of the contract? I know I'm not the best but I’m trying. I thought you were a little bit happy. What can I do to make you happy? Do you want to stay in Megaton? Do you want to go back to Underworld? Do you," her voice broke, "want me to sell your contract? Just tell me, and I swear I'll do it, okay? I'm tired of feeling like we’re friends only for it to be shoved back in my face." 

***

Charon tried to get up, but the smoothskin’s knees had locked his legs in place against the sides of the chair. He looked around, for something, anything to save him from this situation, but nothing seemed likely. The only way out of this would be assaulting his employer, which was definitely against his contract. Finally, he had no choice but to look at her.

“Charon,” her voice softening, “Please. I don’t care what the truth is, but I deserve to hear it.”

“Is that an order?” he asked, trying to hide himself behind the contract. He was trying to throw up any kind of wall he could. He had hoped yelling at her would avoid the exact conversation they were having now.

“No, Charon. It isn’t. I’m asking you to tell me, not ordering.”

“You want the truth?” he said, an echo of what he said before. His voice cracked, and he almost didn’t recognize it as his own. The smoothskin nodded, biting her lip. He looked away, focusing on her hand still gripping the chair. This time he knew he would tell her the real truth, even if he wasn’t sure what that was.

“Look, I’m a bad guy. Before you bought my contract, I worked for bad people. I’ve killed children, Smoothskin. Ripped them away from their mothers and listened to them scream. You asked about my family before? I killed them. I killed my own goddamn family. I can’t come back from that. I don’t deserve to come back from that. I should be miserable every single goddamned day for what I’ve done. But when I’m with you, I don’t feel so goddamned terrible all the time. When I'm with you I feel like I don't have to be terrible. And then I feel guilty, because I shouldn’t want it but I do. You're the only one on Earth I want to have my contract. I'll follow you wherever you want to go. I'll keep you safe," his voice trembled at the beginning, but he kept going. He didn’t pause to think about what he said, he just let the words flow out of him. Instead of being the one speaking, he almost felt like he was listening along with her, waiting for what he would say next. Charon’s eyes were glued to the back of his hand. It made it easier to talk when he didn't have to look at her. "I shouldn't have said what I did earlier. It was inappropriate and I sincerely apologize. I let my emotions get the best of me. If you would like to-," he hesitated, "find the Vault boy, I will wait here for your return." The entire time he hadn't looked at her face, not knowing whether he would find disgust or pity, or a combination of both. She reached up and Charon flinched, expecting her to slap him, and was surprised when he felt her palm gently touch his cheek. 

“Charon, it was nice talking to Butch. Sometimes I miss the Vault. It was nice to have someone to reminisce with. But I don't see him that way,” she said gently. "And when you're ready to talk about your past, I'll listen. I won't judge you, Charon, I promise. Everyone can come back, even you. Okay?" her hand was still on his face, and she stroked her thumb right along his swollen jaw, causing him to twitch. "I'm sorry about that by the way. Is the contract voided now?" she asked, her eyes looking at the damage she had done. 

"It is my choice about whether to seek new employment after the contract has been violated," Charon explained. 

"Does that mean you'll stay?"

"I'll stay." She wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him into a tight hug. Charon winced when the apex of her shoulder hit his jaw, but he didn't mind that much. He awkwardly patted her on the back. Her knee was resting between his legs, but he tried not to think about that. When she pulled away, her face drifted close to his, and she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before pulling away slightly, blushing. 

"Charon," she said. Her face was still so close; he could feel her breath on his face. It smelled like whiskey. "I don't think you're a bad guy." She wasn't pulling away and it was all he could do not to lean up and kiss her. 

"You don't know that, Smoothskin." She glanced down at his mouth when he spoke. She didn't argue with him further. Instead, she leaned down, pressing her ear against his chest. 

"Doesn't sound like a bad guy's heart," she said after a moment. She raised her head and gave him a big grin. He gave a small smile back. His employer glanced down, biting her lip like she always did when she was thinking. She had created a small slit in the middle of her bottom lip from her worrying. Charon wanted to touch it. "Did you mean what you said before?" she finally asked. "I mean, about wanting to, you know. Finding me attractive, I mean."

 _How could I not?_ Charon thought.

"I was crude before. I apologize," he said guardedly. 

"That's not what I asked," she replied, her eyes staring into his with an intensity that alarmed him. Normally her eyes were a delicate brown, like the hickory nuts he had gathered with his father in the fall, but now, now they were swirling pools of smoke, glints of obsidian. They were dark enough to push him away, but alluring enough to drawn him in.

"You are very attractive," he admitted, breaking eye contact. He could stare into the eyes of the most evil shits in the Wastes, but something about the way she was looking at him made him afraid. When he snuck a look back at her face, a sly smile was touching the corners of her lips, her eyes still blackened velvet. 

"What was it you said before? Something about my tight ass and big tits?" she teased, leaning down provocatively. Her breasts brushed against his chest and his eyes grew wide in shock. His fingers were gripping the arms of the chair, his fingernails digging into the wood. "Do you wanna hear a secret, Charon?" she whispered into his ear, pressing harder against his chest. It was all he could do not to moan when he nodded. "I think you're pretty attractive too." Her breath tickled his ear and he shuddered.  _She can't be serious._ Charon had no disillusions as to how he looked. He didn’t have to look in a mirror, all it took was looking down at his arms and he knew. He was a walking corpse, a freak.  _She could have anyone, why would she want you?_ Before he could fall into the swirl of doubts, he felt her lips on his, a light pressure that was so quick Charon almost thought he had imagined it, but he felt that delicate split in the middle of her lip. Her mouth was still parted when he opened his eyes. He didn’t remember closing them. 

She blushed. "I wanted to see what it was like," she admitted. None of this felt real, but Charon desperately wanted it to be. He needed it to be. His head was screaming to tell her how much he wanted her, and he pursed his lips, trying to hold everything inside, to shove it down and stop feeling so much that it was threatening to overwhelm him. The smoothskin's face fell at his response. She leaned back, taking her hands off the arms of the chair. She turned her back to him. "Well, um. I-," she sighed. "Goodnight, Charon."

This was it. His last chance. His resolve was crumbling with each step she took away from him, and by the time she had almost reached the bed, there was nothing left to hold him back. He quickly covered the ground between them. She looked at him nervously and Charon couldn’t blame her; he felt nervous too. He leaned down, his fingers sliding into her soft hair and his heart pounding in his ears. His mouth pressed against hers. This wasn’t the sweet and soft kiss she had given him before. This was full of want and need. Charon felt energy pooling in his core and he focused it into her, into this one kiss, trying to make her understand exactly how he felt. The smoothskin kissed him back with just as much force. She tasted faintly of mints, like the Mentats she popped like candy when she thought he wasn’t looking. But that was buried under the taste of whiskey and something distinctly her. He broke free, and watched the smoothskin open her eyes, confused. He had one last chance to stop this. 

“Order me to stop,” he said, searching her eyes. He almost wanted her to push him away. 

“No.” 

That was the last anchor that Charon had holding him back. He wrapped one arm around her waist, holding her to him, while keeping the other safely nestled in her hair. He kissed her cheek, the corner of her mouth, her forehead. Any part of her he could reach, Charon wanted. She drew him back to her mouth, biting his lip. He grunted, semi-content to let her take control. She pressed her tongue against his and they wound together. The smoothskin pushed him on, her mouth dancing with his. Charon lifted her up, causing her to yelp in surprise, but it didn’t last long, and the smoothskin wrapped her legs around his waist, locking them behind his back. He walked towards the bed, not able to stop touching her, looking at her. He stumbled when his shins hit the edge of the mattress. He fell forward and landed on the smoothskin with an “Oomph.” She giggled. He laughed with her, letting the sound roll from deep in his chest.

He tried to kiss her once, lightly like before, but the smoothskin wasn’t having it. It felt like she was on fire and wouldn’t be content to fizzle out; she wanted to burn. She nibbled at his bottom lip, trying to draw him in, but Charon pulled away, deciding there were other areas needing exploring. He saw the smoothskin pout her lip, but when he started leaving a wet trail down her neck it was replaced with a moan. He didn’t know where to stop, where the line was with her. He realized his line was non-existent, and that he didn’t care where they stopped, as long as he didn’t have to stop touching her. 

Charon started by licking at her earlobe, working his way slowly down the path from her jaw to her collarbone. He had spent so many nights thinking about following this exact trail with his mouth. He had never been proud of it, but thinking about it had been enough to get him off before. He had imagined it so many different ways, but this was even better. This was real and she was oh so willing. She wriggled under him as Charon moved down, he noted amusingly. He ran his hand up her shirt. He wasn’t trying to move too fast, he just wanted to feel her skin under his. He moved slowly up her body, tracing her hip, the dip of her waist, each rib. He tried to memorize every facet of her body with his fingers. He stopped below her breast, content to feel her heavy breathing under him as he continued nibbling on her neck. When her arms moved down to take her shirt off Charon leaned back, slightly surprised. Charon’s eyes dragged slowly and heavily across her body. He wanted to dive into her and never come out. He made his way to her face, wanting to see her eyes, but she was looking down, blushing, like she was worried that he wouldn’t like what he saw.  _A laughable thought._ But he didn’t laugh. Instead he decided to show her exactly how much he liked it. He had been resting on one elbow, leaving one hand free to explore, while carefully making sure there was space between her lower thigh and a certain part of him. He hadn’t wanted to scare her before, but now he just wanted her to know exactly how she was affecting him. He lowered his hips, smiling as it pressed against her thigh and she glanced down. Her lips were barely parted and her eyes flicked up to his. There was an indescribable emotion there, soft and intense, warm and glinting. She couldn’t be contained with words and Charon stopped trying. Instead he buried his face back in the crook of her neck. He traced his way down to her clavicle with his mouth, when he noticed the jagged scar. It was still pink and puckered, freshly healed. He looked up at her, questioning, and she shrugged.

“Super mutant with a super sledge. It happened right before we met,” she explained. He kissed the scar slashed across the bone, gently and his fingers brushed over scattered bruises, some new and some old, knowing they were sensitive. She shivered in response.

”Tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispered into her skin, sending a ripple of goosebumps radiating out. She nodded so slightly Charon almost missed it.

He kissed and licked his way down her chest, until he hovered over one of her nipples. He glanced up at her, but her head was tilted back and her eyes closed. Focusing in front of him, he licked it once, and the smoothskin whimpered. It was enough to make Charon’s hips twitch against her thigh automatically. Sucking her nipple fully into his mouth, he fondled her other breast with his hand, rubbing his thumb delicately over the hard bud. It wasn’t long before the smoothskin was thrusting her hips in the air, moaning for Charon to keep going. His hand moved down, grasping her hip possessively. She was his and he wasn’t going anywhere. His fingers slid below the waist of her pants, and when her hips thrust upwards again, he felt his pinkie slid against her inner thigh. Sarah shuddered under him. The heat radiating into his palm was beckoning him, but he stayed still. He was terrified of scaring her, of hurting her. 

“Charon, please,” she mewled, her voice thick. Any blushing she had before was gone. His fingers moved back up, before sliding below the waist of her underwear. He felt her soft, curly hair and she spread her legs. She was soaking wet, and Charon traced a single finger down her slit, causing her to gasp. He loved the sounds she was making, relishing the fact that he was the one doing it. When he slowly pushed a finger inside her, her fingers dug into the muscles on his back, pulling him close to her and trapping his hand between them. He slid out a little, his palm pressing against her clit unintentionally and her hips bucked into him. He wanted this to be good for her, wanted her to be incapacitated by it, and he was learning. She was panting into his ear, her hair tickling the side of his face. He shifted his body down without moving his hand, slipping her other nipple into his mouth. It was hard, and he loved sucking on them, hearing her moan his name every time he pushed back into her, rubbing his palm against her. “More,” she moaned desperately. Charon slid another finger in and she sighed in pleasure. 

Suddenly, he pulled his hands and mouth away, giving her nipple one final kiss before moving further down, leaving her gasping and whining. He kissed along the under swell of her breast, tracing his tongue across each rib. He wanted to taste all of her. Her hips bucked desperately trying to get his fingers to come back, but they were gripping her sides, holding her down as he followed his own path. Charon kissed her stomach, pausing at her navel to let his tongue slip into the small crevice. Her responding shriek was more than a little humorous, even when she whacked him with her foot.

“Ow,” he cried out, a look of mock hurt on his face. Charon felt like another person.

“You’ll live,” the smoothskin laughed. 

“Maybe,” Charon said, lightly tugging down on the loose-fitting Brahmin-skin pants. The smoothskin lifted her hips up, no longer laughing, and allowed him to pull them down all the way. She was more beautiful than he remembered, her skin pale and soft. A large freckle graced her right hipbone, and Charon kissed it. He was determined to commit every inch of her body to memory. She blushed as his eyes drank in every inch of her. He kissed the inside of her knee and she spread her legs, inviting him deeper. He licked her lightly, the same path his finger had taken, and the smoothskin groaned. The taste of her was intoxicating. Charon remembered reading one of his dad’s  _Adult Magazines_  that said spelling the alphabet with your tongue is a good way to please your woman. He had discovered the magazine by accident, and at the time he hadn’t been sure what that meant, but he was pretty sure he could figure it out now. By the time he got to “K” the smoothskin was dripping wet and begging him not to stop. She seemed to like the letter “G” the most, so Charon traced the letter over and over, slipping his tongue into her occasionally, just for variety. She grabbed the back of his head, pushing him deeper, but Charon didn’t mind. He wanted her desperate.

“Charon,” the smoothskin cried out softly. He looked up, his face dripping with her juices. “I need you. I want you.”

He stood up, and went to take his shirt off when he stopped. Walking over to the light switch, he turned the light off.

“Don’t,” she called from the bed. “I want to see you.”

“You don’t want to see this, smoothskin. I don’t even want to see this.”

She climbed out of the bed, her bare feet padding across the floor. She turned the lights back on and grabbed his hand.

“I want to see you,” she repeated. Not letting go, she pulled him back to bed. With him still standing, she kneeled on the mattress. The smoothskin tugged on his shirt and reluctantly, Charon raised his arms. She lifted his shirt over his head and kissed his bare chest twice. Her breath sent tremors down his body, but it wasn’t enough to make him forget how unappealing he was. Charon was fit and muscular; he had to be to survive in the Wastes, but there wasn’t anything Charon could do for his condition. Ghouls always reminded Charon of someone that had been dragged behind a car for a couple of miles, but it didn't seem to be bothering her.

When she ran her fingers over his exposed muscles, he tilted his head back, closing his eyes. His breathing was becoming ragged and hoarse. When he felt her breath on his lower abdomen he quickly looked down and saw her dangerously close to his crotch, with a tantalizing expression on her face. She tugged at his belt buckle, and he undid it, watching her the entire time.

How often was a naked woman this beautiful tugging at his belt? _Never_ , he thought. None of the other women he'd been with made him feel anything like this. He still wasn’t sure he was awake. That this wasn’t just a dream.  _Even if it is a dream, fuck if this isn't the best one this side of hell._

The last of Charon’s clothes dropped to the floor with a light thud, and suddenly he was very aware of every flaw he had. Panic blossomed in his chest. The missing patches, the scars, the leathery skin, all of it made Charon want to turn around and run to turn off the light, quickly, before the smoothskin changed her mind. When she began stroking him, however, any thought of leaving this glorious sensation was gone. She leaned down, her mouth hovering over his stomach before dipping her tongue into his navel, the same way he had done to her and he shivered. “Fair play,” she laughed as he pursed his lips at her. But it was hard to keep any emotion besides pleasure on his mind when she never stopped stroking him. 

Then her head leaned down again and when Charon looked, she was staring, her large, round eyes focused on nothing but him. She opened her mouth, letting her tongue slide out at lick the tip. Charon swore the lights dimmed. Everything was fuzzy except her face. Her eyes pierced into his and the sight of her mouth sinking down, lower and lower made it increasingly difficult to keep his knees from buckling. She couldn’t get his cock completely into her mouth, but that didn’t stop her from getting an A+ for effort. 

“Fuck,” Charon groaned, his voice raspy. She chuckled, and Charon’s hips bucked forward on their own accord. The smoothskin gagged just a little, her throat tightening. Then she started to hum, making her throat to vibrate. Charon’s knees bent in response. “Enough,” he growled. His cock popped out of her mouth and she licked her lips. She was so tempting and Charon wanted her so much it was hurting at this point. She crawled backwards into the bed, Charon following her until he was completely on top of her. Her hard nipples pressed against his chest. He kissed her once hard, crushing their mouths together. She spread her legs and Charon could feel his tip rub against her folds. Her knees seemed to fit perfectly right above his hips. Everything about her seemed to fit perfectly with him. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, stopping himself. He wanted her so fucking badly, but he had to make sure. The smoothskin’s cheeks flushed crimson and she nodded.

"This is my first time," she admitted, quietly. He could see the embarrassment on her face, and when he realized what she was saying, Charon’s face mirrored hers. What was he doing, he was 200 years old? She was 180 years younger than him.  His hesitation must've been evident, because she pulled him to her. "I want this," she whispered into his ear. Charon couldn't stop, didn't want to stop. She was everything, everywhere, and he wanted to disappear into her and never come out. 

He wanted nothing more than to thrust into her, but Charon went slow. Sliding his hips forward, he slowly pushed deeper into her, pausing when she cringed. She was so slick and warm Charon groaned in spite of himself. He could feel the tension in her legs, and her lip trembled occasionally. Tears pricked the sides of her eyes and Charon gently wiped them away. He pressed his cheek against hers, hoping it was comforting. When he was completely inside her, he held still, letting her get accustomed to him. He used this opportunity to kiss her more, letting her bite and worry at his lip. She was rougher than she meant to be, but Charon took it without complaint. She could set the pace and Charon would follow. Her hands trailed along his sides, moving up to his chest, before wrapping around his neck. 

When she began moving under him, Charon smiled down at her, stroking her hair. He followed her rhythm, slowly thrusting into her. It was torture, but a delicious form of torture he was more than willing to accept from her. She dug her fingers into his back, leaving burning tracks in their wake. “Harder,” she cried out and Charon was only too eager to follow this particular order. Charon pulled almost completely out, before burying back into her, and she cried out. “Charon…please don’t stop.”

He leaned down, biting her neck before whispering, “Wild Brahmin couldn’t drag me away.” At this point he wasn’t sure where he left off and she began. He was inside of her, but it felt like she was enveloping him in mind, body, and soul.

“Charon, I’m getting so close,” the smoothskin said, grinding up against him. He could feel his climax building with hers, but she was ahead of him.  They had abandoned rhythm at this point. Instead, Charon pounded into her chaotically, moaning when she rose to meet him. Suddenly, Charon felt the smoothskin tense up. He could feel her muscles tightening around him and her fingers dug into his shoulder. Arching her back, she moaned loudly, almost a scream. As her body convulsed, her head pressed back to the bed, until she finally collapsed. Charon rolled his hips against her twice more, savoring the feeling, before pulling out, causing the smoothskin to shudder. Charon chuckled, shifting his weight to beside her. She snuggled into his arm. She nuzzled the crook of his elbow. He was warm and slick with sweat, but so was she, and it was comforting feeling his skin pressed against hers. She was satisfied in a way that she had never felt before, like the world could tumble down around them and that would be okay. 

“Did you…?” she asked, looking up. She looked satisfied and content. He shook his head. “I can fix that,” she smiled lazily. Crawling down the bed, she looked up at him at the exact same time that she slipped him back into her mouth. Charon watched her bob up and down, until he couldn’t take any more and closed his eyes. He felt her tongue swirl around the tip and he groaned.

“Smoothskin…” All of a sudden her mouth was gone and when he looked down she was hovering over him. He thrust his hips up, but his head only brushed against her lips. His body ached for her.

“Say my name,” the smoothskin said, her eyes hard. 

“…Sarah,” he panted. She wasted no time sucking him back into her mouth and it wasn’t long before he was the one begging for her not to stop. She focused on the head, alternating between licking and sucking it into her mouth. She traced her tongue from the bottom all the way up the underside and Charon jerked suddenly. It was enough to drive him over the edge and he came suddenly, his breath coming out in a slow hiss. It caught the smoothskin by surprise, leaving a trail of his cum across her cheek. The next wad landed in her mouth, and the smoothskin swirled her tongue around before swallowing. By the time Charon had finished, the smoothskin’s face had cum all over it. Charon fumbled off the edge of the bed before handing her his shirt, letting her wipe off her face. He pulled her onto him, her breasts pushed forward and his cock gave a small twitch. He kissed her again, softer now. The hint of whiskey was there, but now she tasted like him as well. Charon didn’t mind. She was beautiful and laying on his chest and nothing could take away from this moment.

“You might want to pop a RadAway,” Charon said leaning back against a pillow.

“Really? Ghoul semen is radioactive?”

“Only mildly,” he answered. Her chin rested on his chest. She had managed to get most of the cum off of her face, but there was still a trail across her cheek which turned him on. He had the urge to wipe it off with his thumb and have her lick it off. 

“Bet that won’t be in Moira’s book! Well, guess we better stock up on Rad-X!” she laughed, winking. 

Still naked, the smoothskin sauntered over to her bag and bent over, giving Charon a delicious view. He could even see her juices still running down her thigh. God, that view alone was enough to get him hard again.  Sadly, the RadAway was near the top of the bag, and all too soon she had straightened up, packet in tow.

She turned off the light and climbed back into bed. Charon opened his arms, letting her get comfortable, which happened to mean burrowed into his chest, her leg slung across his. Some of her hair draped across Charon’s face, tickling his cheek.

”Did I hurt you too badly?” he asked, stroking her hair. 

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” she said softly. Charon knew that the first time hurt for women, and he regretted that he had done that to her.

”Are you sore?” He felt like he was worrying over her with his questions but he couldn’t help it. She laughed.

”I could go again,” she said teasingly, rubbing against his outer hip, leaving a wet, slick trail behind.

”Don't tempt me,” he said seriously, and when she glanced up at him questioning, he lifted up the sheet, revealing he was already mostly hard again. She giggled and started to reach down when he caught her hand in his own.

”Smoothskin,” he warned, “you need sleep.” 

“That’s not what I need,” she retorted, slipping her hand out of his before stroking him softly.

Charon groaned. It was hard to argue with her normally, but it was impossible now. 

She stroked him for a while, her hand moving languidly up and down. Before it had been a rush, but this felt more relaxed. She moved her hand to lift up the sheet and straddled him, his cock trapped between his stomach and her. She rolled her hips forward and it slid alongside her length. Charon knew when it brushed her clit from the small gasp that escaped her mouth. He grabbed her hips, sinking his fingers in as she teased him and herself. Her hair fell down her back and her breasts swayed with the motion. His eyes were adjusted to the dark and he could just make out the outline of her face. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Charon whispered, watching her. If he died tomorrow, he would be content with this as his last memory. The only way she acknowledged that she heard him was by sliding her hands up his chest. 

When she lifted herself up and grasped him with one hand, Charon wasn’t prepared for the sudden tight wetness that surrounded him. She sighed as he filled her, leaning forward and kissing him gently. She laid against him for a moment, breathing heavily; their cheeks were pressed together.

”This feels right,” she muttered in his ear. She nibbled lightly on it before leaning back again, arching her back. She began to ride him, completely controlling the tempo. Her breasts bounced and Charon snaked his head forward, trapping one in his mouth. He bit her nipple gently, eliciting a moan from her. His moved one of his hands, reaching between them, smiling when he found that sensitive little nub. He rubbed it with his thumb, causing her tempo to increase. She moaned and whimpered with almost every breath, the sounds doing as much for Charon as being inside her. He knew he was close, and he tried to slow himself down, but it was like trying to stop a train. He didn’t realize how close they both were, and when she clenched down on him, he came inside her, feeling as the waves of her orgasm rolled through her. He never stopped rubbing her clit, until she collapsed heavily on top of him and shuddered at his final stroke. 

It took a minute for her to lean back up. Her muscles seemed to be weak and Charon chuckled. “Good?”

”Very, she said contentedly. She grinned, her teeth glowing in the darkness. She rolled her hips forward. Even though he was soft, Charon was still inside her and he moaned. 

“Enough,” he said chuckling. He reached under her arms and pulled her up beside him, her head resting in the crook of his shoulder. Charon pulled up the blanket, covering both of them, before sighing into her. She felt like safety. 

 

 

***

“Smoothskin,” Charon said softly. It was late, but they hadn’t fallen asleep, exhausted as they were. She was too content feeling his warm, naked body next to hers. When she didn’t respond, he looked down at her. Charon sighed. “Sarah?”

“Yeah?”

“I had a dog once,” Charon said quietly. A minute passed, then another.

Sarah finally spoke, her head against his chest, “Before the war?”

“Yeah.” He was quiet for a moment. “His name was Moose. He was a huge, slobbering chocolate Lab that always brought back a different stick than the one I threw.”

“I’ve thought about getting a dog out here, but I’ve never met a trader willing to sell me one,” she said, wanting to keep him talking.

“My dad would take him duck hunting, and my mother always got mad when they came back and got mud on the floor.” She had begun tracing shapes on his chest with her finger. 

“You didn’t go hunting with your dad?”

Charon laughed darkly. It was like honey poured over concrete. “I didn’t like the idea of killing things." He sighed, and Sarah could feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest. "Funny how life works out, isn’t it?” Her heart broke for him. She imagined a little boy playing with his dog in the woods, who loved to read and play, and hated the idea of killing things. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Charon didn’t say anything after that, and neither did she. 

***

Charon couldn’t sleep. Didn’t want to, really. He feared for the morning. He feared that he would wake up with her regretting everything. Charon stroked her hair.  _So much for pushing her away._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing says Christmas quite like some good old fashioned smut! Enjoy the ghoul love! I know I enjoyed writing it! My heart nearly burst writing this. At the beginning I actually titled it "WELL I GUESS THEY'RE NEVER HAVING SEX" because I kept trying but it just felt unnatural. Finally everything came together, including Charon and Sarah ;)


	19. Slave to Desire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Tis the season! Enjoy the afterglow! I'm honestly losing my mind at how cute they are. I might edit this more later, but I'm on a roll. I literally can't stop. God bless the smut. God bless Charon angst.

 Charon rolled over, wrapping his arm around the warm body beside him. His eyes flickered open, tracing over the smoothskin next to him. Tresses of dark hair curled erratically on his pillow. Charon reached up, brushing the hair away from his employer's face.

 _What have you done?_  Charon asked himself. At night, it felt like no one could ever know their secrets, but in the light of day Charon realized what he’d done to her. If anyone found out what they had done... People didn't take kindly to ghouls in the most casual of relationships. Having sex with one was considered filthy, disgusting. Charon couldn't really resent them for it; he had a similar view of himself. But they would outcast her as well. He glanced down. She was so tranquil sleeping like that, and the corners of Charon’s mouth tugged upwards.

His eyes traveling down, Charon realized quickly that she had not bothered to dress last night after their… He shook his head. He didn’t know what to call it. Charon noticed her thigh was poking out provocatively and the blanket cupped the underside of the smoothskin’s breast, exposing her nipple. Charon thought about placing his mouth over that delicate nub last night... He laid there staring at her, contradicting thoughts warring in his head. She scooted closer to him and her warmth had a soothing effect. Charon found himself drifting back to sleep, but his dreams were dark. 

***

Sarah stretched, running her hand up Charon's bare chest. It was ridged, and she enjoyed trailing her fingers over the peaks and valleys. She had expected to be nervous last night. She had never kissed a boy before yesterday, but instead of scaring her, every time Charon touched her sent a rush through her body. There had been an ache that desperately needed to be filled, and she knew only Charon could do it.

People in the Vault were "assigned" a partner when they turned twenty-one, just like they were "assigned" their careers at eighteen.  They had said it was to ensure genetic diversity, but it had taken leaving the Vault to realize that it was just another way to control everyone. Sarah shuddered when she remembered the "Procreate" posters scattered throughout the Vault to promote young couples to have children early. This elaborate plan of genetic planning left very little room for "love" in the Vault, and Sarah remembered growing up thinking couples that tolerated each other were in love. She realized that if she had stayed, she would’ve been assigned her partner in a few months. The thought made her queasy.

It was different with Charon. There was no pressure, no expectation, and she knew if she had asked him to stop, he would’ve immediately. She knew he would obey an order, but she trusted him, and knew it wouldn’t have taken an order if she wanted to stop. But she didn’t want him to stop. She wanted to do all the things she heard other girls whisper about back in the Vault. She didn’t want to stop at kisses. 

His arm was still around her, pulling her closer. Situating herself back into the warm crook of his shoulder, she peeked up to make sure he was still sleeping, and was surprised when his milky, steeled eyes were looking back. Everything seemed so much more real in the light of day and they stared at each other, neither one willing to break the silence, afraid of what that would mean. Sarah finally looked down, tracing more shapes on the planes of Charon’s chest.

He sat up abruptly, leaving a large crater in the space he used to occupy. Standing, he turned his back to her and pulled on his pants, leaving Sarah utterly confused.  _What had she done?_  Charon looked around the room for his shirt, even checking under the bed. It was crumpled under her pillow and she pulled it out, offering it to him.

“Thank you,” he said, taking it from her hand.

“Charon,” Sarah murmured. Her voice was low and heady. Charon turned around, his face blank. “Did you not like last night?” Charon’s blank expression slipped.

“No!” he said quickly. It was the most emotion Sarah had ever seen Charon display- _Save for last night._

“It’s not, it’s not that,” Charon said more slowly.

“Then please come back to bed,” Sarah said, lowering her lashes. She patted the bed. Charon’s jaw tightened and he did not move, his shirt still clenched in his fist. 

***

“Smoothskin, last night you made an error. Do you know what people will say to you if they ever found out about this? What they’ll say about you? You would be ostracized. People do not forget things like this. Ghouls are not fit for humans. Especially not this ghoul,” he said, becoming more impassioned the longer he spoke. He couldn’t bear the thought of someone calling her a ghoul fucker, a necrophiliac.

In response, Sarah stood up on the bed, letting the blanket pool around her ankles. She struggled to keep a straight face as Charon’s eyes roamed over her body. “I dunno, Charon. I think you’re pretty  _fit_ to me. At least, you  _fit_  pretty well last night,” Sarah said, enunciating. She was surprised at her own audacity, but she smiled when she saw the look of longing cross Charon’s face.

***

Why didn’t she understand? Charon was trying to make this go away. He was trying to give her a way out. No one had to know.  She’d had her fun and now she could walk away from this, but she just couldn’t understand. When she stood up, dropping the blanket around her feet, Charon instantly became hard. He was doing his best to stay under control, but he was only human.  _No, you aren’t,_  a voice in the back of Charon’s head whispered. He remained frozen when the smoothskin hopped off the bed, landing lightly in front of him. She was so close that he could smell her.

“Smoothskin,” he whispered. Charon reached up almost touching her hair before pulling back. She grabbed his hand in hers, pressing it against her cheek. The smoothskin closed her eyes and kissed his palm.

“I don’t regret last night. Do you?” she asked. Charon shook his head. “Then show me,” she said, pressing up against him. He could feel her hard nipples against his chest. Her skin was warm to the touch. Without thinking, he scooped her up and walked towards the bed. He laid her down gently, pulling the blanket around her. Charon couldn’t remember ever calling someone cute in his entire life, but that was the only word that came to mind, seeing the smoothskin wrapped up in the blanket. When she reached for him, he didn’t even try to pull away.

***

The night before had been about passion. Sarah needed him, and she figured that he must’ve needed her pretty badly himself. This time was different. Charon slipped under the blanket, his hand trailing down slowly before slipping inside of her. The feeling of his fingers sliding in and out of her consumed her thoughts. He moved slowly, his palm barely grazing her clit, which was driving her slowly insane. She mewled weakly, her eyes heavy and lidded. She felt so hot, like her skin was about to shear off of her bones and spill out pure liquid light. She wanted more and she clawed at his flesh, demanding it closer. He moved on top of her, his warm, wet fingers pulling out of her before trailing up her skin. She groaned as he brushed against her breast, exposing her neck. Charon leaned down, biting her hard, holding her still. It hurt, but it was a pain that excited Sarah. She wanted more, and she raked her fingernails down his back, eliciting a low growl of warning from Charon. He tightened his grip on her neck with his teeth and Sarah nearly wept with the pleasure and pain. He loosened his grip and shifted, before moving up to her mouth, his fingers still playing lightly with her breast. When he lowered his lips to hers, he pinched her nipple roughly between two fingers, causing her eyes to flash open and her hips to buck. Charon was watching her intently, and she blushed, embarrassed at her reaction. She didn’t know much about sex, besides the mechanics of it, but she had a sinking suspicion getting off on those delicious bites of pain wasn’t normal. She turned her head away from him. 

“Don’t,” he said, pulling her gaze back to him. “You’re perfect.” She disagreed whole heartedly, but the way he looked at her dried out her mouth, until her tongue was trapped. He kissed her again, slipping his tongue in, and suddenly hers wasn’t paralyzed anymore. Her fingers found the waist of his pants, shoving them down as far as she could, which wasn’t enough. She lifted her hips towards him, impatiently wanting him inside of her. When she looked at him, he was staring at her with an intensity to make grown men run screaming.

“Are you sure?” he asked, an echo of last night.

“You don’t have to ask that every time, you know,” she said, thrusting her hips up again. Her folds rubbed his length and he groaned, gritting his teeth but remaining still. He stared at her, waiting, until she sighed. “Yes, Charon. I’m sure.”

When he slipped into her, filling her up, a feeling of contentedness overtook Sarah. Charon took his time, rocking into her slowly, almost lazily. She was in no hurry. They kissed, breaking apart only to find each other’s mouths again. Her climax was getting closer, and so was his, judging by the increase in pace. Charon sucked two of his fingers into his mouth before sliding them down her body, rubbing her clit. The effect was immediate. She tightened around him, moaning as she tried to get him deeper inside of her. She came then, his fingers still rubbing her. Her moans and frantic bucking must’ve driven him over the edge because Charon stiffened, grunting into her neck. When Charon finally slipped out of her, she could feel their mixed cum trickle down her thighs.

He hovered over her for another moment, his chest heaving. He moved to the side of the bed, withdrawing from her touch. Sarah bit her lip. She worried deep down that this was just part of his contract.  _Can he really tell me no?_  Her mind flashed to a slaver camp she had found soon after she had entered the Wastes. After she had killed all the slavers, she found a girl, a few years younger than her, tied to a bed. She was naked and it had taken hours for Sarah to calm the hysterical girl down. Sarah had been so infuriated at the prospect, but now she realized that she was no better than those slavers. Upset, Sarah began to cry.

***

A small pool of nausea had dropped into Charon’s stomach when he noticed the purple bruise blemishing her neck. She had seemed to like it, but he hadn’t realized how hard he was biting until he had been hovering over her, panting after his orgasm. He had taken a long, hard look at the suspiciously mouth- and teeth-shaped mark that he knew couldn’t be hidden. He couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t look at what he’d done to her. People would see it, see him, and they would know what the two of them had done. 

When Charon heard his employer sniffling, his blood ran cold. He prayed that he was hearing things, that he was wrong, but when he turned to look at her and saw the tears sliding down her cheeks, he hated himself. This was not a new feeling; Charon hating himself, but he couldn’t remember a time in recent memory where the feeling had been quite so intense. He had hurt her. He knew she would regret this eventually. He wasn’t meant for this. He couldn’t provide what she needed, what she deserved.  _You're too broken._

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. He lowered his head in shame.

“Why- are- are- you so-rry?” she hiccupped.

“I have upset you,” he said without raising his head. Charon couldn’t bear to see her cry because of him.

“I’m crying because-,” the smoothskin sobbed. “Because I’ve made you my sex slave!” the girl cried out loudly. Her sobbing intensified, filling the room with her loud wailing. Charon tried to take her seriously, but the idea was so ludicrous that Charon chuckled. And then laughed. And then he couldn’t stop. He clutched his stomach, trying to stop, but he couldn’t. Tears streaming down his face, Charon tried to remember the last time he had cried. His employer looked over at him, frozen, a look of terror, concern, and confusion mixed on her face, which only made Charon laugh harder. After another minute of laughing, he finally managed to gain control of himself, wiping a tear away from his eye. His ribs were aching and he hard to take a minute to catch his breath. He had never laughed this hard, but at the same time, he had never heard something so ridiculous, so it seemed to go hand in hand. He sat on the bed next to her. 

Coughing to clear his throat he managed to explain, “You did not force me.” The smoothskin’s lip trembled.

“Are you sure?” Chuckling again, Charon turned, pulling her into his lap. He traced the place he had bruised, kissing it lightly. She trembled beneath his hands. 

"I am sure."

***

Sarah could’ve stayed bundled up in Charon’s lap all day. Hell that’s all she wanted to do, but she had responsibilities. She eventually wormed her way out of the blanket, leaving Charon lying on the bed. He watched her languidly, and Sarah was suddenly very aware of her nudity. Trying not to blush, she got dressed, throwing on yesterday’s clothes. He watched her and she made sure to give a little show, sliding the loose fitting pants slowly over her hips. He fingers frequently found the bruise Charon had placed on her neck, marking her. She didn’t bother trying to cover it up. _Who’s gonna say anything? Let them think whatever they want._  When she looked at him again, Charon had his hand thrown loosely over his groin. Sarah smirked, nodding towards the door. He jumped out of bed, pulling on his clothes as she walked towards the door. Still trying to tie his boots, he fell in behind her. Sarah didn’t even bother to look back. She knew he was with her. Now, she just needed to find Dr. Li.


	20. An Apple a Day

Charon didn’t like this Dr. Li. She was a scrawny woman with cold eyes and a shrill voice. The second that Dr. Li saw his employer, she was yelling about this being a restricted area, until she got a good look at his employer's face and recognized her. Something about the smoothskin’s father was said. Charon wasn’t really interested in the details. He just needed to keep his employer safe.  _Your employer, or Sarah?_  a voice whispered in his head. They hadn’t talked long before his employer was yelling, “This is my fault? Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Charon snapped his head around and in one stride was standing directly behind the smoothskin. He was sure he could throw Dr. Li like a javelin. The small woman backed away from him in fear, but a small touch to his arm made him back down. He didn’t even have to look down to know what his smoothskin wanted from him. His smoothskin?  _This can’t last and you know it,_  he warned himself, but he was in too deep now. It was like digging out of drying cement with a shovel.

“Just tell me where he is so we can get going,” she said, looking back to the doctor. 

“He’s at the Jefferson Memorial, but I’ll tell you what I told your father. Don’t go,” the woman said, but before she had even finished her sentence his smoothskin was walking away. Charon realized he liked the sound of  _his_   _smoothskin_.

***

On her way out Sarah grabbed two apples off of the lab bench, throwing one to Charon. She bit into hers and let the juice run down her chin. Dr. Li started to say something, but Sarah guessed she thought better of it. Charon really was terrifying when he wanted to be, but that’s part of the reason she liked him. When she looked over, Charon was putting the apple in his pack.

“What are you doing?” Sarah asked. They were walking the hallways of Rivet City again. Sarah had heard that there was a Marketplace, but she had yet to find it. She was not the most gifted in the directions department. Kinda hard when you grow up in the exact same place for 18 years, and everything has a sign.

“Putting your apple away,” he replied.

“It’s for you, idiot,” she said, sticking out her tongue. He pursed his lips and she stopped. “I’m not going any further until you eat the apple.” To enunciate her words, she plopped down in the hallway. Using this opportunity, she bit into her own apple again. Rolling his eyes, Charon reached into his pack and took a bite of the fruit.

“Good enough?” he asked.

“Only if you keep eating,” she said innocently. Standing up, they continued on their way, with Sarah trying desperately to navigate her way through Rivet City’s seemingly endless corridors. When she finally found the Marketplace, she quickly started looking at the shops, examining one thing or another. That had stayed in the subway longer than they planned for, and their supplies were dangerously low.

There was a clothing shop and Sarah bought Charon a variety of t-shirts that were in surprisingly good condition. They were mostly black, but she made sure she grabbed an army green since that was his favorite color. She also bought him some more pants, including a grey pair of Pre-War slacks. He raised his eyebrows at her purchases. 

"For those lazy Sundays," she teased. She couldn't imagine Charon being lazy. As she stopped from store to store the people she haggled with occasionally glanced over her to Charon, but luckily they were wise enough to keep their mouth shut.

“Hey, aren’t you that Vault Dweller?” someone asked from behind her as she was leaving Gary's Gallery. They had needed food and it was their last stop. Sarah cringed, but knew that it was only a matter of time before someone recognized her here. Damn Three Dog advertising her as a Savior of the Wastes was beginning to be a real pain.

People always came to the Vault Dweller whenever they needed something. It was her own fault, really. In the beginning she could barely save her own ass, much less anyone else's. When the Vault Door closed behind her, she had a 10 mm, a box of bullets, and a _Groknak the Barbarian_ comic. She managed to find Megaton, but it had taken a stranger kicking her ass to get her out of her self pity slump. 

“You gotta have two things in the Wastes: caps and knowhow, and right now you got neither,” the man had said. The next day she ventured into the wastes, returning with what she could carry. Every day she ventured a little further, getting experience in killing things and not being killed back. She also figured out quickly what Moira paid the most for. When someone talked around town about needing something done, Sarah volunteered, provided they had the caps. Every day for six months had been the same, until she had enough caps to buy a small mercenary army. She buried some of it, hid the rest around her house. People knew she had caps, and she wasn’t going to lose all of it if someone decided to be stupid and steal from her. Even though she didn’t need the caps now, she sort of enjoyed helping people.  _To a point,_  she added. Three Dog had been an exception, the dick bag. She didn't really know why, but she really didn't like him.

Forcing herself back to the situation at hand, she plastered a grin on her face. She could lie about it, but that would only work for so long. Better to just get it over with. She shouldn't be this way, but so many people made her tired. 

“Why yes, I am,” she said, still forcing the smile. People crowded around her, thanking her, asking her questions, and she tensed up. One man shoved a box of ammo in her hand. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate it, but it was all so much… The people were so close and it felt like she was suffocating. She rubbed her head. The constant drone of people was giving Sarah a headache. Suddenly everyone around her fell silent, and when she turned around she realized why.

Charon had his arms crossed, standing behind her with a murderous expression. She had to stifle a laugh. He did this often it seemed, keeping people away. She waved to everyone in the crowd, and while a few waved back, most kept their eyes on Charon, wary. They left the Marketplace quickly after that. Sarah had sold all of the stuff she had scavenged lately, and managed to buy enough ammo for the next month.  _Flak had a great selection_ , she thought, making a mental note.

Once they left the Marketplace behind, Sarah wasn’t sure where to go. She hated this damn ship. If she didn’t have her Pip-Boy, she wasn’t sure she could’ve found her way out of a wet paper bag. Finally frustrated, she turned to Charon.

“Can you get us to the room?” Charon nodded and smirked. It seemed he knew she was directionally-challenged as well. Sarah kicked him in the shin.

“Physical violence negates our contract you know,” he said, trying to act serious.

“Oh, I’m sooo scared. Just get us back to the room.” Charon led her through the ship and apparently had better navigational skills because they quickly arrived at their room. Sarah blushed.  _Their room._

 


	21. Better Than Nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy the latest chapter. I love fighting scenes, just because most fics I've read tend to skip over them. Happy New Year's!!!

Sarah didn’t stay in Rivet City long after she knew where her father was. Charon managed to convince her to eat while he cleaned her weapon. She watched while he carefully took her weapon apart. She wasn’t sure, but she thought he took more time than he usually did. The table was covered in pieces of her gun, with springs and other parts organized neatly and spread evenly over the metal surface. With her mouth full of cold Mirelurk cake, Sarah quizzed him about everything from the bore to the barrel of her gun. He answered her questions patiently, taking the time to show her which direction cleaning worked best for minimal damage. She had never seen this side of him before: patient, almost loving. There was a minor pang in her chest.  _I mean, he at least likes me. I think_ , she thought.

By the time her gun was put back together, her food had been finished long ago. They then packed their bags, with Charon's new clothes placed in the bottom of his pack. She was itching to get off this boat and back out in the Wastes. It reminded her too much of the Vault. 

Finally ready to go, she was at the door with her fingertips on the latch when a large forearm blocked her path. Most of the skin was gone to reveal the corded muscle beneath. When she turned, Charon was leaning towards her, closing the already narrow space between them. He nuzzled her cheek with his. His face was rough, and she could feel the differences in texture where the skin was missing. She kissed him, and they stayed like that for a moment, before Charon grabbed his own bag, sporting a dangerously roguish smile.

***

Charon allowed himself a little weakness in the privacy of the hotel room. She was safe there, protected. The second they left, however, that was gone. As soon as that door closed behind them, she was his employer again. It had to be that way. He couldn't feel conflicted out here, couldn't have distractions that might get them both killed. He recited his contract to himself and shut himself down emotionally. 

The Jefferson Memorial was a short distance west of Rivet City, so they stayed above ground, walking down the ruined streets of the Capital. It was relatively sunny out, and the warmth of summer had yet to fade. Ghouls didn't really sweat that much, instead giving off heat in micro doses of radiation. Meanwhile, he could see beads of sweat forming on the back of his employer's neck. They hadn't been walking long, but she had just come off bed rest.

Charon figured they would take more rest stops than normal, but when she stopped suddenly, Charon almost ran into her.  _Clumsy,_ he berated himself. Following her line of sight to a makeshift fortress, he knew instantly where this was headed. The path wove up the hill, before turning sharply and ending at the edge of a cliff. The cliff face was spiked with steel beams and rods. High above them a hostage sat bound. Charon could tell just from the decor who was claiming the hostage, and Charon knew she would go in anyways. As she crouched, watching, Charon tried to think of a way to keep her safe. 

“I will go in and clear them out. You may remain here,” Charon said formally. His tone was not lost on his employer and she looked somewhat hurt. He couldn’t let his guard down out here. She needed to understand that. 

“We go in together,” she said, her voice firm. Charon wanted to argue, to disobey, but his employer had spoken, and so he followed her, creeping along the crags of the rock. He had fought super mutants before. It was almost impossible to survive in the Capital Wasteland and not encounter the large, hulking brutes, and while he knew that she could handle herself, he thought back to her bruised shoulder. Trying to push out the thoughts of his lips on her collarbone, he focused on the fortress in front of him. Super mutants were dumb and slow, but their strength was more than formidable. Their best chance was to surprise them. They crept in, making their way past supply boxes on the back wall. She signaled, “Check them,” and he did so reluctantly. Charon was apprehensive about leaving her, but his employer carried on, seemingly worry-free. They hadn’t seen a single Super Mutant, and Charon had a sense of dread coiled around his stomach.

***

Sarah had just untied the Wastelander when she heard a super mutant scream, “Kill them! Kill them all!” She whipped around to see four super mutants running up the path at an alarming rate. Urging the Wastelander to slip through the bars and head for Rivet City, she shifted her feet in the dirt, turning to face her attackers. She was ready.

The first mutant to reach her had a crudely-made weapon of wood and nails. Sarah sidestepped his first attack, pulling her knife from its sheath. She aimed for the area between the eyes, but she missed and instead her knife sunk into the mutant’s nasal cavity. The green skin was thick, like tanned hide, and the knife lodged there firmly as the super mutant crumpled to the ground. “That’ll do,” Sarah said laughing. She had missed killing more than she liked to admit. 

Another mutant was almost on her before she could aim her gun. She fired blindly, spraying bullets in front of her, hoping she hit the green brute. A thud in front of her caused her to pause her finger on the trigger. A pile of metal armor and green skin sprawled on the ground 10 yards off. The third super mutant heaved with anger, but held back. It was more cautious than the others, watching her, waiting for a weakness.

Sarah glanced around him, noticing that Charon was dealing with the fourth mutant. Both of their guns laid discarded on the ground. Not many men could last ten seconds in hand-to-hand combat with a super mutant, but from the looks of it, Charon was winning. She didn’t have time to dwell on this long, however, because the super mutant in front of her suddenly rushed forward, screaming unintelligibly. When he was within shooting distance, she aimed, but paused, wanting to prove herself.  _To whom? Yourself, or him?_ So far, Charon had been more of a babysitter out in the Wastes, saving her ass, taking care of her, protecting her. For some reason she hated it more the longer it happened. She had survived in the Wastes without him for months, and she could stand on her own without him helping her like a child. Focusing back on the mutant, she edged closer to the middle of the path, circling around the large fire. The super mutant bellowed again. He swung his fist at Sarah’s face, and she ducked. It was close, and she felt the rush of air against her cheek. Still crouched, she punched the mutant in the rib and it wailed, grabbing for her wildly. Sarah was quicker, and dove between the beast’s legs, kicking upwards. She wasn’t really sure if they had anything there, but hell, it was worth a try. The steel toed boot must’ve hurt in one-way or another, because the mutant screamed like Mrs. DeLoria fending off radroaches.  _God these things are annoying_ , Sarah thought.

Now behind the super mutant, Sarah lunged into it, hoping to knock it over. As it fell, she realized that she was falling with it. Out of options, she relaxed her body, hoping that the super mutant wouldn’t crush her. When Sarah landed on the super mutant she knew this was it. It could tear her limb from limb, but after a moment of it not moving, she looked up. A steel beam was sticking out of an eye, and the mutant's tongue lolled out. Sarah jumped up.

“Yeah!” Sarah shouted, feeling rather cocky. She ignored the fact that her own head had been six inches from the same steel beam.

***

“Fucking-, super mutant and your godda-,” Charon panted. He had tried to shoot the damn thing, but it had knocked the gun out of his hand before he had the chance. He lunged trying to get his gun back, but there was no other choice. Squaring up, he faced the green brute head on. All he had was a combat knife, but in truth, Charon enjoyed the challenge. It was a mid-size mutant, with tires strapped over its shoulders. Its gun was strewn ironically close to his, but neither of them moved towards their weapons. Charon twirled his knife in his hand, lining the blade up with his forearm to slash more than stab. When the super mutant stepped forward, he stepped with him, staying just out of reach of the large moss-colored hands. As they moved, Charon dipped in, slashing whatever he could reach. This only enraged the super mutant, causing it to leave more openings for Charon to slip into. Blood dripped onto the gravel, making the rocks slippery. When it slipped from its own blood, Charon stabbed upwards at its face, gouging out an eye. The super mutant grabbed its face and Charon used that opportunity to finish the job, driving the knife into the center of its chest.

By the time he had managed to deal with his super mutant, he could only watch as his smoothskin faced her own foe head on.  _Use your gun, smoothskin,_  Charon wanted to scream. He vaulted over the corpses in front of him, running towards her. When he saw the two of them fall, his heart lurched. The steel beam was getting ever closer to her head, and Charon knew he couldn’t make it in time. When it drove through the back of the mutant’s head, Charon sighed with relief. She was safe. His employer popped up, excitedly shouting. Relieved by her safety, Charon was now more than slightly irritated. Storming up to her, he crossed his arms.

“That was careless,” Charon said coldly. “You could’ve used your gun. You were foolish.” She flinched from the admonishment for only a moment before a stubborn look crossed her face.

Putting her hands on her hips, she looked up at him and said, “I killed it, didn’t I? And two others. I can take care of myself.”

Before Charon could stop himself he shouted, “Then why did you buy my contract!” Her eyebrows furrowed and she bit her lip, looking down.  _Goddamn it._

“I told you. I wanted to give it to you, but I can’t…” she trailed off.

“Still doesn’t explain why I’m out here,” the words spilled out of Charon before he could stop them. He was just trying to keep her safe.  _But instead you come off like an asshole._

She started to speak, before sighing and turning away from Charon. She started walking toward Jefferson Memorial.  _I’m an idiot,_  Charon thought as they made their way towards the building. The metal ramps provided little cover and as they drew nearer, he drew up closer to his employer. She looked at him, but if she had a comment, she kept it to herself. The mutants were spaced along the perimeter, and they crept up the walkway, trying to catch them by surprise. 

 _On three,_ she signed to him. She preferred sweeping targets on the left, and so he aimed for the centaur on the right. Charon suppressed a shudder. Of all the Wasteland abominations, they bothered him most. So many hands, and feet… When she signaled, they fired together. It took one more shot from Charon to bring the centaur down. He was slightly out of range for his shotgun. The smoothskin ran up the platform, shooting at the super mutant in front of her. Shots to the left drew Charon’s attention. A super mutant in the distance was focusing on her, allowing him to get close enough to kill it with one shot. Brain matter splattered on Charon’s armor. It would be a bitch to clean off later. He made his way back around to the smoothskin. She was standing there, her gun held awkwardly.

“You’re hurt,” Charon said matter-of-factly. She shook her head. He knew she was lying. The strip of cloth tied around her arm was clue enough.

“We need to clear the inside. I’m fine,” she said. Holding her arm delicately to her side, they wrapped around the memorial until they found the entrance. Charon switched to the sniper rifle, managing to kill super mutants as they went before the smoothskin could even raise her gun. He ignored her glares, instead focusing on the primary directive of keeping his employer safe.

When she tried to yank open the door, Charon held it closed. So soon after their argument earlier, he was loathe to cause another, but knew she needed a Stimpak at the very least.

“Stimpak,” he said, pulling one out of his bag. She shook her head.

“We don’t have very many as it is,” she complained.

“And they’re no use to you dead. Stimpak,” he repeated. She huffed, extending her arm. He injected quickly into the wound. He knew that it was the best he could hope for out of her. Nodding, he opened the door.

The building smelled like it looked, wet with mold and decay. A fog of dust permanently clouded the air. He could barely make out a super mutant through the haze, but it couldn’t see them, so he took his time, carefully aiming at the obscure figure. A shot rang out and it dropped to the ground, a pleasant trail of smoke still drifting from Charon’s gun. His employer walked carefully down the corridor and turned left, spying a terminal. She began typing furiously with one hand, while Charon stood guard. When he heard the chime, he walked forward into the room.

“The turrets will ignore us. I reset their parameters.” Charon grunted. They walked around, Charon keeping watch while she occasionally checked her Pip-Boy. She stopped at a door.

“There’s two left on the other side,” she said, glancing up from her wrist. She was shaking. Charon didn’t know if it was because of the wound, or the fear of finding her father dead. Charon nudged the door open, firing twice into the room. Both shots were accurate, and he pushed the door the rest of the way open with his boot. He swept the area, to be sure there weren't any possible threats. Pip-Boys are accurate machines, and while Charon trusted them, he trusted a personal sweep more.

As he checked their perimeter, he saw her pick up some holotapes. She quickly played one of them and a man’s voice filled the otherwise quiet room. It was a short holotape, talking about Vault 112, west of Evergreen Mills. Charon wasn't stupid. Even without her saying, he knew the holotapes were from her father. And if he had gone to this vault, that was where they were headed next. 

 


	22. Rule Number One

Sarah’s arm was killing her and the heat was almost unbearable. The sun loomed large overhead, her shadow a mere sliver. She wiped a damp lock of hair out of her face. Every time a sticky piece slipped into her field of vision, she thought about chopping off all of her hair. It didn't really serve a purpose out here anyways. 

Meanwhile, Charon had been nagging her about her arm since they left Jefferson Memorial and it was more than a little irritating. She had traveled by herself with worse, dragging herself back to Megaton through sheer willpower and a maybe more than a little Pyscho. When she told him they weren’t taking the subway, his face twitched. She could tell that he didn’t agree with her decision, but wasn’t like her damn arm had been blown off. You wouldn’t know from the way he acted, though. The entire way he talked more than the first month of their time together.

First he had asked if she wanted him to forge ahead, then if she wanted him to carry her pack. When he asked if she wanted to stop for the night at only 4 in the afternoon, Sarah lost it.

“No!” she shouted. “We stop when we get to Megaton.” She was shaking slightly. Charon clenched his jaw, saying nothing. Sarah turned and kept walking. The pavement under her was radiating heat and she could feel it through her shoes, but she was damned if she was going to stop now. They walked in silence for another hour, until they came to the river. Sarah sighed. She had forgotten about crossing the river. She waded in, waist deep. The water was cool on her skin. It was a pleasant relief from walking in the hot sun, even if she wasn't looking forward to crossing. Holstering her gun, she began swimming, albeit awkwardly. One-armed swimming was something she had never really prepared for. Charon swam next to her, deliberately slowing his pace. Somehow it only fueled Sarah’s anger, drawing her further into her sullen silence.

***

Her swimming had been… awkward, although Charon was impressed that she was able to at all with one arm. He had been trying all day to make it easier for her, but it only seemed to make her angry. Everything he did seemed to make her angry, so eventually he stopped talking and they fell into silence. If she wanted to continue, he would follow, and if she stumbled he would pick her up.

By the time night fell, she was shaking. Her pace slowed, and her breathing became labored. Charon was surprised that she was still able to stand, much less move. He found himself wishing the doctor had stressed the "take it easy" part more. They were out in the middle of nowhere Wasteland, and though he was sure he could get her to Megaton if she faltered, he did not like the idea of letting the situation get that elevated.  _It's already elevated._  He matched his pace with her, trying to think of a way to help her, but came up blank every time. Another hour passed, then another. They passed an old grocery store and the smoothskin gritted her teeth.

“Over that hill,” she said, but it seemed to be more for her sake than his.

***

 _Fucking rocks, fucking heat, fucking stick_ , Sarah thought angrily. She was sick of the Wastes. She was sick of being injured. She wanted a shower and a hot meal. She wanted her bed and… she glanced over at Charon. They weren’t exactly on speaking terms, but wants were wants. 

Sarah struggled under Megaton’s gates, halfheartedly waving to Stockholm with her good arm. Walking down the hill to Craterside, she almost fell, but righted herself, glaring at Charon when he moved to help. She banged on the door to Doc Church’s clinic, and after a minute, the man opened his door, muttering and rubbing his eyes.

“What is rule number one? Don’t bother me. Especially at 3 in the damn morning,” the man grumbled. When he saw Sarah slumped against the doorframe, he whistled. “Alright, you look damn near dead. Get in,” he said, stepping aside. Sarah sat down on the clinic table while the doc gathered supplies and Charon stood in the corner, arms crossed. Doc Church injected something in her arm and Sarah laid down on the table, closing her eyes. She drifted in and out of sleep, not knowing what was dream and what was reality. 

***

Charon watched the doctor work, gathering materials and such. He carefully took off her armor, occasionally humming. Had it been anyone else, Charon would’ve torn off his fingers, but this was necessary. When she was in her underclothes the older man began working. He started with her arm, dropping pieces of bloodied metal in a ceramic bowl. The water in the bowl quickly turned a dark pink.

“You look after her?” the doctor said without looking up. Charon grunted in reply. “Well, you did a shit job,” he said bluntly. Church hadn’t even bothered to look in Charon’s direction as of yet. “She’s got a barely-healed stab wound in the leg, shrapnel in the arm, and heat exhaustion. Her radiation level is sky damn high and her feet are blistered beyond belief. Do I need to go on?” Church asked, glancing over. Charon shook his head. “I give her a hard time, but this girl means a lot to the people around here. She disarmed the bomb, helps Walter with the plant. And rumor is that she’s the one that offed Moriarty, good damn riddance. So, next time she goes out in the Wastes, try to bring her back in better shape.”

“You try arguing with the bullheaded ass,” Charon muttered, causing Doc Church to laugh. The doctor was finishing wrapping her feet. He taped the cloth in place, and gave her one final check over to make sure there wasn't anything he had missed.

“Stop by tomorrow and pay me then,” the Doc said, finishing up. “And I’ll have a talk with her. It’s going to take a couple of weeks, if not more, for this all to heal. She’ll need to stay in Megaton at least that long.”

“We’ll come back tomorrow and you can tell her,” Charon said, picking her up. Slinging her bag over his shoulder, he cradled her smoothskin in his arms, making sure her head stayed tucked against his chest. She needed sleep, and he had no intention of waking her. 

He walked slowly back to her house, but when he arrived at the door, he realized he didn't have a key. Charon was sure that she did, but he wasn't sure where she kept it. He lightly knocked on the door, wincing when her robot butler responded loudly from the other side. 

"Yes, who is it?" 

He growled lowly at the robot, "It's me. Open the door." Wadsworth opened the door, muttering something about rudeness under his breath. Charon didn't really give a fuck. Walking into the house, he dropped all their bags at the door. It could wait. He carried her upstairs and set her gently on the bed. Her blanket was pushed down towards the bottom of the bed and he covered her up. He watched over her for a minute, trying to decide if he should watch over her for the night, or sleep in his own bed. He turned off her light and stepped outside, before walking into his own room and stripping off his armor. It smelled like dead super mutant and river water, but Charon didn't have the willpower to clean it now. He was about to get into his own bed when he heard her call from the other room. 

“Charon,” she called out. Her voice was still unsteady from the meds the doctor had given her. Charon walked back to her room, just in his t-shirt and a pair of shorts she had gotten him in Rivet City. 

“Hm?”

"Stay with me?" She sounded so plaintive, Charon couldn't have said no if he wanted to. He slid into bed next to her and she sighed, nuzzling into his shoulder. Her arm was slung across his chest and her thigh was thrown lazily over his. “I’m sorry I was a jerk," she whispered in the darkness. 

“We’ll talk about it in the morning.” She drifted back to sleep, Charon following not long after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, short but sweet. But I wrote the next chapter at the same time, so it'll be up soon. Enjoy! Also, I posted a short smut piece with Charon and Sarah. If you enjoy this, hopefully you'll like it. It's titled "Happiness is a Warm Smoothskin" and I'm hoping to publish more shorts soon.


	23. Pay Up

Sarah sat in front of Doc Church, swinging her legs. She was sitting on the clinic’s stained exam table as Doc Church chastised her. It was slightly embarrassing, but also heartwarming. It reminded her of her father.

“Do you understand? You’re no good to anyone dead. Including your father,” Doc Church finished. She knew that he was right. Since she left the vault, she had hardly stopped. If she wasn’t looking for her father, she was trying to help out someone else. Only because she knew no one else would.

“How long?” she said, looking at her feet. They were wrapped up in cloth, but the blisters and boils had begun to burst, staining it a puce color.

“Depends on how well you listen to my advice. Two weeks, three if you include light to medium exercise.” Sarah sighed. She didn’t really have another option.

“Okay.” She heard Charon let out a sigh of…relief? She went to stand up, and Charon kneeled in front of her. Her cheeks flushed pink as she climbed onto his back. The doctor had recommended she stay off her feet, but wheelchairs were in short supply in the Wasteland. That left him piggybacking her around for the next two weeks. He carried her home, the Megaton settlers eyeing him with caution. When they saw her smiling and waving from his back however, they relaxed. Megaton had almost become more of a home for her than the Vault was now.

Charon had almost carried her up to the top of the hill when Sheriff Simms stopped them. “Hey there, Miss 101,” the Sheriff said, looking up to her. It was interesting having everyone look up to her for a change. He was relaxed, but Sarah knew that he could draw that laser rifle on his back faster than a radscorpion’s sting. “Been awhile. You hear about Moriarty?” The old man’s eyes were sharp and examining. Sarah shook her head.

“He fall down the stairs drunk again?” she asked. Everyone hated Moriarty, but murder was murder, and Simms couldn’t just let that go unpunished. Even if the bastard did deserve it. 

“Nope, someone stabbed him with a damn butter knife. Cut his throat and everything. Never seen anything like it, to be honest,” Simms said, scratching his hat. “I woulda thought it was Nova or that ghoul of his, but they were at Doc Church’s when it happened. Apparently Moriarty beat him something bad.”

“Hmm, well. Wish I could say I was sorry to hear that,” Sarah said truthfully. Sheriff Simms’s mouth twitched into a smile.

“Been a helluva lot less trouble for me. Since Gob took over I haven’t had to deal with half the drama. Moriarty was a damn gossip hound,” Simms admitted.

“I’d believe it, Sheriff. He was a slimy bastard. But if you’ll excuse me, I was actually about to head over to the saloon myself,” Sarah said. Charon began walking again, completely ignoring the sheriff. Simms tipped his hat, stepping to the side.

“Charon, will you take me to the bar?” she asked sweetly. He grunted in response. Laughing, she squeezed his sides like a horse, causing another grunt. “It’s kinda fun being tall,” she said, peeking over his shoulder. Her chin rested on the top of his head. He tried to hide it, but Sarah detected a hint of humor. 

***

 _No one can resist the smoothskin,_  Charon thought. The Sheriff, the Doc, everyone was wrapped around her finger as she went happily along. Simms had accepted her lie and Charon couldn’t blame him. She was damn convincing. Even if he hadn’t, Charon doubted that he would’ve done anything besides slap her on the wrist for killing whoever Moriarty was. From the way people spoke about him, he wasn't well liked. The way people talked abut him reminded him of Ahzrukhal. 

When they walked into the bar, and his smoothskin saw Gob wiping the counter, she wiggled to be set down. Hobbling over to Gob, she pulled the ghoul into a tight hug.

“Gob!” she cried, squeezing him tightly. He looked like his eyes were about to pop out of his head. Charon followed closely, tapping her on the shoulder. He nodded towards her wounded arm. It was beginning to bleed and she let go suddenly.

Trying to catch his breath, Gob choked out, “Vaultie! We’ve been hearing about you on the radio! Is it true you-“

Sarah cut him off, “You know I hate that damn thing. Sensationalism and half-truths.” Gob smirked.

“Okay, okay,” he said throwing his hands up. Charon could tell they’d had this conversation before. His smoothskin sat at the bar and Charon moved to stand behind her. She motioned for him to sit and he did.

“Anyway, where’s Nova?” Before Gob could answer, Nova came trotting down the stairs.

“Sarah!” she yelled, running up to hug his smoothskin. Charon’s trigger finger twitched. He wasn’t ecstatic about so many people touching her lately. When Nova began staring at him, he gave her a blank look. Nova began laughing in his face and Charon glared. “Pay up Gob!” she said happily, sitting down next to his employer. He looked at her, then Nova in confusion, but his smoothskin looked just as confused.

“C’mon. You don’t know for sure…” Gob trailed off. Reluctantly, he placed a bag of caps on the bar top.

“I wanna know what the bet was,” his smoothskin whined. When Nova whispered in her ear; she flushed pink, her eyes widening in surprise. “Oh,” she said, causing Nova to laugh harder. Even Gob was chuckling. When Charon finally realized what the bet must’ve been about he stood up, pulling Gob across the bar by his worn and stained shirt.

“You tell no one,” Charon said thickly, leaving no room for debate. Gob nodded, and when Charon's eyes cut quickly over to Nova she quickly nodded as well. He released Gob and sat back down, returning to his passive, stony expression.

***

Sarah looked quickly from Gob to Charon to Nova. Charon's face had returned to his typical calm, but the other two looked shell-shocked.

“Gob, are you okay? I’m so sorry!” she said quickly, but Gob stopped her.

“It’s okay, Vaultie. People out there don’t understand ghouls. They hate ‘em for the most part. Best you keep this quiet. Me and Nova don’t really go advertising our business either, if you know what I mean.” Sarah nodded. She felt like something heavy was caught in the back of her throat. This Wasteland was always terrible, but today felt more draining than most, despite getting to see her friends. 

Sarah told them goodbye, promising she would come as often as she could. When she stood up, Charon kneeled in front of her, but she ignored it. She was angry at him for the way he had treated her friends. She could walk the short distance to her house. She was outside, limping past the bathrooms when Charon picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder.

“I can walk by myself!” she yelled, kicking his back. He kept walking, ignoring her. People stopped to stare as he carried her past the water treatment plant. They were almost at the house when she finally yelled, “Charon, put me down!”

Suddenly her feet were on the ground and she looked up at him surprised. It was only a few more feet to her house and she hobbled in, greeting Wadsworth before heading upstairs. She slammed the door to her room behind her, flopping down on the bed. After a few minutes she heard a light knock at the door.

“Yeah,” she said, face down in her pillow. It smelled like dirt and Charon.  _I can’t get away from him,_ she thought.  _But then again, I don’t really want to._  The sound of her voice was muffled, but Charon must’ve heard her because he opened the door. Sitting down in the chair beside her, he sighed.

“Can we talk?

“I don’t know. Can  _we_  talk? As in both of us?” she asked, lifting her face up.

“I have made you angry,” Charon said.

“You threatened my friend, Charon. This isn’t how things are gonna be,” Sarah said, searching his face.

“It is my job to protect you,” Charon said. His hand reached out for her, but she pulled back. A hurt expression crossed his eyes before he concealed it behind his passive mask. 

"That's what I'm talking about. Any time you feel anything you shut down. Those are my friends. You might actually like them too if you gave them half a chance. I won't force it, but if you ever treat them that way again you won't be going to the bar with me. That's fair. Do you accept?"  She felt like she was negotiating a peace treaty. 

"Do I have any choice?"

"You can stay at home," she retorted sarcastically.

"I accept." She smiled largely at him and pulled him into bed, molding her body into the crevices of his. Sarah knew he was trying, even if his trying sucked sometimes. She cradled her head in her typical spot, throwing a leg over him. She traced a pattern in his chest, sliding over the ridges between skin and muscle. She wanted to be mad, but she had been a jerk yesterday, and he had forgiven her; she could do the same. Her knee rubbed his thigh provocatively and she slid her fingers southward.

“Later, smoothskin,” Charon said, a chuckle escaping his lips. She pouted slightly before laying her head back down.

“It was worth a shot.”


	24. Enough

Sarah was eager to be off and find her father, but, to be honest, she was also enjoying the hell out of her down time. She went to sleep when she wanted, ate when she wanted - hell, she even read books cover to cover _._ In Rivet City she hadn't really had anything to entertain herself with, but at home she had the hordes of things she had carted out of the Wastes for months on end. Sarah also spent a lot of time at Gob's, enjoying his and Nova's company. Charon had kept his word, though he barely spoke while they were there. He mainly just sat at the bar, sipping his drink and keeping to himself. He had insisted on carrying her almost everywhere for the first two weeks, even though Nova had lent her some slippers with soft padding for her feet.  

The third week they had left Megaton, just short treks to build her endurance back up. It started at short walks around the perimeter, but soon she was running with Charon jogging alongside her. She pushed herself, though not too much, per Doc Church's orders. She enjoyed the exercise and by the end of the third week, she felt better than she had since leaving the Vault. She was now at her three-week check-up with Church, and she was hoping he would clear her completely. Knowing the old man, though, he'd add on another month before he was completely satisfied. 

“Hmm. Everything looks good. Now, try not to ruin my hard work out there,” Church said, wiping his hands on a dirty cloth. Sarah grinned, giving him a crisp salute. Before he got any ideas about throwing something sharp and pointy at her, she was out the door. Looking up, she noted it was already mid-day, too late to leave town. She headed up to Moira’s to see if she had anything worth buying. Sarah knew herself to be something of a packrat, but it was better to have too much instead of too little, even if it did mean lugging it all over the Wastes. Charon loped to catch up with her, and she motioned for him to stay outside with two fingers. She knew Moira would be happy to see her, and she didn’t want Moira’s and her trigger-happy goons to blow their damn heads off over a hug. When she was about to open the door she kicked herself. She had forgotten to ask around Rivet City for its history. She still remembered most of Underworld's, but Moira still wasn’t gonna be happy.

***

Charon stood outside the Craterside Supply, leaning up against the wall. He watched people go by, and they watched him. They were more relaxed with him now, and didn’t sneer at him with disgust the way most humans did. It had traveled quickly that he was with the Savior of the Wastes, and people left him alone, though it didn't end their curious eyes. But Charon was used to much worse; honestly, this almost amused him. 

When the smoothskin walked out, she was cradling boxes upon boxes of ammo, as well as food. Charon wordlessly took his share of the items, carrying them back to the house. She dumped the boxes in the middle of the floor before walking upstairs. Charon unloaded his stack with hers before walking into the kitchen.

*** 

"Charon," she called from upstairs. She leaned over the railing and saw him walking out of the kitchen, a deviled egg stuffed in his mouth. Sarah wrinkled her nose; she hated those things. "Have you seen my rifle?" She had looked in her bedroom, but it wasn't where she usually kept it. Without saying anything Charon walked over to the locker in the corner and pulled out the gun she had been looking for. She jumped over the railing and landed behind him, snatching the weapon out of his hand. "Thanks!" she grinned, and he grunted in response. She stuck her tongue out at him.

Things had been going well-ish with Charon. She still wasn't sure that he would come with her when she left, but he hadn't slept in his own bed since they had been back in Megaton. She wanted him to come with her, but wouldn't force him. Sarah wasn't Ahzrukhal, even if she did own his contract, and she was determined to let him make his own decisions as much as he was able. Sarah still wasn't sure what made him follow his contract so resolutely, but she knew it was hard for him. It would be hard for anyone to deal with.  _Most people would've killed themselves,_ she had thought cynically one night while he talked. She was glad he hadn't, and had scooted closer to him, enjoying his presence. 

Every night, and often in the middle of the day, they had sex, lounging afterwards in her bed, or on the couch, or wherever else they happened to be at the time. Sarah grinned. There wasn't really a surface they hadn't been on. 

Once when she had been in the mood, she left the room and stripped, before returning to sit nonchalantly on the couch, facing Charon. She had spread her legs seductively pretending to read  _Duck and Cover,_  but it didn’t take long to arouse Charon’s interest. He was gentle on some nights, rough on others. Almost every night he would share some detail of his life. So far he had mainly talked about Ahzrukhal; apparently, he had worked for him for the past thirty years. Charon told her how the ghoul starved him and kept him awake for days on end, sometimes for a minor mistake, but often just for his own entertainment. He had rarely left the Underworld, but when he did it was to take care of someone who had pissed off Ahzrukhal. There was no room for Charon to be merciful. It was always hard for Sarah to put herself in Charon's position. When he asked about the Vault, Sarah almost felt guilty telling him about the time Butch stole her sweet roll. Her life in the Vault had been sheltered and safe and her problems felt inconsequential.

***

He watched as she meticulously packed her bags, evenly distributing the weight. She had guns sitting all over the floor, and he could see her trying to calculate which ones were best. She finally settled on her sniper rifle, a .44, and a combat shotgun. It was similar to his, although in poorer condition. Once she had finalized her choices, he gathered them up. She protested lightly, but Charon continued anyways and spent the next couple hours cleaning and repairing her weapons until they were nearly factory floor-perfect.

She watched him, asking him the occasional question and handing him a part when he requested it. He was nearly done with the final weapon when she walked out of the room. He briefly wondered why she hadn't grabbed his bag to pack, but chalked it up as her wanting him to do it himself. He was allowed more freedom here than he could ever remember having. It was nice being able to decide things for yourself, even something as small as when and what you ate.

“By the way. I’ve been so busy almost dying and whatnot that I forgot. Here’s your pay,” she said walking back into the room. She threw him a large bag of caps and he tried to hand them back.

“I do not require pay.”

“Well, throw it in the river then. I’m not taking it back,” his employer said, putting her hands on her hips. Charon knew there was no arguing. He tried to think of something he would want to spend caps on, but drew a blank. Charon put the caps in his pocket, unsure what else to do with them.

“I’m going to Gob’s. You can stay here if you want.” Charon shook his head, following her out the door.

***

The bar was slow that night. After Jericho left, it was just the four of them in the bar. Nova pulled up a seat next to Sarah and had been downing Vodka like it was water. Gob was sipping from his bottle of wine behind the counter and he kept Sarah’s whiskey glass full. Sarah glanced over to Charon. They had been there an hour and he was only halfway done with his first beer. This was Sarah's first night drinking since being back in Megaton and she was greatly enjoying herself. Doc Church had forbidden any form of debauchery, as he called it, and, anxious to be cleared, she had followed his advice. _Although she wasn’t counting nights with Charon_ , she thought with a smile. 

“This won’t do,” Sarah slurred, causing Nova to giggle. “If you’re gonna be in the bar, ya havta be drunk. Them’s the rules, right, Gob?” she hiccupped.

“You heard the lady,” Gob said, pulling out a bottle of whiskey. He poured three glasses. “You got some catching up to do.” Charon pursed his lips at all of them, but picked up the first glass and drank it in one gulp. Nova and Sarah cheered. When he downed the third, Sarah stroked his shoulder, causing him to freeze. He still wasn’t always comfortable with her touching him out of the blue, and it was hard for Sarah to remember. He was so handsy most of the time, but a random touch would make him freeze up.

She still wasn't sure where they stood. Were they friends with benefits, not even friends? She wasn't even sure what she wanted out of this relationship herself. She cared for Charon, but did she love him? It's not like she had any real examples of what love was. She wondered if her parents had been in love. She realized she had never asked her father. Sarah didn’t even know if her father would tell her the truth. She cared about Charon, and she enjoyed their intimate times together, but when she thought about being more with him her stomach flipped.  _My drinking has gotten the best of me,_ she thought. 

She kept drinking however, and tried to forget Charon, which was hard considering he was right next to her. She did make sure that he kept drinking with all of them, nodding to Gob anytime his glass got low.

At one point, once they were all well and good drunk, Nova stood up on the bar, doing her impression of a deathclaw. As she stomped around on the bar top roaring, Sarah ended up falling off her barstool from laughing so hard, and even Charon couldn’t keep a straight face. Sarah had to pull herself up slowly from the floor, batting away multiple hands that tried to help her.

When the room began to spin, Sarah thought about stopping drinking, but she already had another whiskey in her hand so she figured,  _What the hell?_  Three in the morning came quickly, and even Charon loosened up towards the end, conversing with more than a grunt or nod.

Throughout the course of the night, Sarah had watched Nova and Gob. Quick glances, touches when they thought no one was looking. Sarah realized that this was what love really was. It made her slightly jealous how easy it seemed between them. They didn't seem to have any of the problems that her and Charon did. She knew that it wasn't fair, that they had to hide their love most of the time, but it didn't make her any less jealous.  _I really am a selfish bitch,_ she thought through her daze. She hated being like this; she was happy for her friends, but it was hard not to draw comparisons.

When Nova strolled over to the other side of the bar and pressed herself against Gob, Sarah looked away. They were both drunk-  _shit, so am I-_  and quickly their hands roamed over each other’s bodies. The bar had gone quiet except for the radio and the indecent sound of Gob and Nova kissing. Sarah glanced at Charon, nodding towards the door. Nova gave a half-wave to Sarah as she left. She was too preoccupied pulling Gob up the stairs for much else. As the door closed behind her, Sarah staggered towards the railing. It bumped into her chest, but she was just happy for the steadying support. The moon was waning now, an oblong sphere illuminating the town below her. Most people, like Mr.Burke, thought of Megaton as ugly, but she found it lovely in its own way. It was something trying to be better, and in this fucked-up world that counted for a lot.

The railing groaned against Sarah’s arms as Charon leaned up against it. His eyes were slightly out of focus, and it looked like a strong wind could topple him over. She was tempted to laugh, but the realization that she was no better off kept her quiet. She looked up at the sky. It had been getting colder in the Wastes and the air felt crisp in Sarah's lungs. It was hard to imagine that the summer was nearly over. The sky was clear and she could make out the constellations Pegasus and Aries. She had always thought it was comical that she had to learn constellations living in the Vault, but it had proved mildly useful out here. She stayed like that for a while, her arms resting against the railings. 

After a while, they staggered their way home, gripping the railing or the walls as they went. It seemed like a century before her fingertips touched her door, and by that time, there was a double of her right hand pushing it open. Wisely realizing that stairs were beyond impossible, she laid down on her rug, mumble-slurring to Wadsworth to get a pillow and blanket from upstairs. She was startled when she felt the floor shake as Charon collapsed beside her. He had a lopsided smile overtaking his face, and a clumsy, but warm hand slid up her shirt, trailing over her stomach. It was easier to focus on his hand than on the spinning room, and when Wadsworth brought the pillow and blanket, she sat up, struggling to pull off her shirt.

***

 _Honestly, how does she look so damn… cute,_  Charon thought as he watched her struggle to remove her shirt. Somehow she had gotten one arm out, but the other sleeve was confusing her to no end. Her hair poked out of the collar, though her face was hidden by the confounding article. Charon pulled the smoothskin free, her face flushed and sweaty from the effort. He ran his thumb across her lip.

She brushed his hand away and tugged firmly on his shirt. He pulled it over his head, throwing it out of the way. Charon still felt the small burst off panic every time he took off his clothes in front of her, like this was going to be the time it was too much for her, the time he was just too gross. But as always he pushed those feelings down, trampling them until he couldn’t hear it anymore.

Charon felt sluggish, like his hands were always two seconds slower than he thought they should be. He tried to go slow, be gentle, but her nipple was between his fingers, and his mouth was biting her neck before he could stop himself. He made his way to her mouth with some difficulty, their kiss sloppy and wet. But Charon didn’t care and neither did she. Their teeth clanked together, causing her lips to twitch in a smile.

Meanwhile, her fingers inelegantly groped on Charon’s belt. It felt like camera flashes, quick bursts of images, rolled through his mind. He didn’t remember who undid his pants,  _was it her?_   She rubbed against his thigh and his hips bucked forward on their own, leaving a wet trail of pre-cum on her leg. Her fingers pulled him towards her, her nails leaving red half-moons on his arms and back. He pinched her nipple, rolling it between his fingers, eliciting a delicious squeal of pleasure. The head of his cock was pressed between the two of them and Charon panted heavily into her neck as she bit down on his. Her breath smelled like liquor. He ran his hand down between the two of them, until he slowly pushed a finger inside of her. When she moaned, Charon smiled into her neck. He lived for that sound. 

“Charon…” she mewled. The way she said his name made him tremble. He pulled out his finger, sliding it up a little ways to stroke that sensitive nub situated in her folds. She was so wet and Charon raised his finger to his mouth, licking it clean. She watched him fervently, nibbling at her lip. She writhed under him, beckoning him. It was too much to resist. 

Without asking, he pushed into her roughly, moaning into her neck, breathing in her hair until he couldn’t breathe anymore. It was nothing but her. Fuck the Wasteland. Fuck everything else. All he wanted was her, here, tracing shapes on his chest and telling him about Butch stealing her sweetroll.  _Well, maybe not that asshole._

He grunted as he raised himself up on an elbow. He wanted to watch her facial expressions as he pushed into her. Her mouth was open, and her lips were curled back, exposing her teeth. Charon wanted this to be good for her, he always wanted that, but it was so hard to keep steady when her face was doing  _that_ , and her hips were doing  _that._ Giving up, he dug his fingers into the back of her thighs, pulling her even closer.  She was arching up as he thrust into her. She moaned his name, and he suddenly came, surprising both of them as he groaned against her lips. When his breathing had steadied, he pulled out slowly, shifting to lie next to her. His fingers trailed up her thigh and when they slipped inside, she moaned with relief. He could feel his cum inside her, slippery and warm. The thought of her full of his cum and satisfied turned him on immensely. Her legs moved further apart, inviting him deeper, while his mouth sucked on her hardened nipple.

“Harder,” she panted out, thrusting up against his hand. Her hips were moving erratically and Charon knew she was close.

“That’s it,” Charon moaned around her nipple as he felt her tighten around his fingers. “Good girl. Just like that,” He egged her on, biting down on her nipple as her fingers dug into his scalp, pressing him down. 

He could feel her orgasm cascade over her in large, spacious waves. When she fell limp back to the rug, he removed his fingers, licking them clean before lying down next to her. Her hair was sweat soaked, and stuck to both of them, but he stroked it anyways, untangling a strand whenever it stuck to his fingers.

"Charon," she murmured against his chest. Her voice was still slightly slurred. 

"Hmm," he said, his chest vibrating. 

“What am I to you?” Her felt her move her head to glance up to him. 

Without thinking he responded, “You’re my employer.” It was a conditioned response, and while technically correct, as soon as she pushed against his chest Charon knew it had been a very wrong thing to say. She was still wobbly from the booze, but she stood over him, wrapped up in the blanket, before kicking him hard in the leg. She wobbled from the effort. Charon managed to stand up, his long legs splayed out, by the time she was halfway up the stairs. Before he could follow her, she had slammed the door to her room.

When he knocked, asking permission to enter, she yelled, “No!”

“Okay, I will wait here,” he said calmly to the door. When it yanked open, he leaned back in surprise.  _Everything is so surprising when you’re drunk._

“Go to your own room,” she said, looking up at him angrily.

“Technically I’ve been staying here lately,” he retorted. He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut for a moment. Her voice was ringing in his head. Charon hoped his head would begin to clear soon.

“Not tonight,” she said flatly, and Charon opened his eyes to find her anger gone. Instead, her brow was knitted together.  _Here it comes. She doesn’t want all your baggage. You’re too fucked up. Always have been, always will be._ He wasn't sure what kind of answer she was looking for, and honestly he didn't know what the answer was. They had great sex, and he shared things with her, but they had never really discussed what they were. Charon had learned a long time ago not to be anything but cynical, and thinking that his employer might be interested in anything more than a physical relationship was beyond his field of possibilities. Charon’s fingers twitched. He wanted to caress her face, feel her hands running up his sides, soothing him. 

He balled his hands up into tight fists and recited his oath. That always made everything fade away, but this time Charon could still feel a dull, ache scratching away. 

“I'm sorry.”  It was the best he could do. Her lip quivered and without warning she closed the door in his face.

“I’ll-I’ll see you in the morning. Go to sleep,” she muffled through the door. Charon had no choice but to do what she said, but she hadn’t said where, so he lowered himself to the floor and leaned up against her door. His thoughts were clearer now, and his mind whirred. He could hear her crying, but an order was an order. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, but his dreams were filled with a woman crying in the dark, and no matter how hard he tried to reach her, she always slipped out of his grasp.  

***

When Sarah opened the door that morning she wasn’t expecting to have Charon fall at her feet. He looked up at her blinking, his upside down face betraying nothing.

“I thought I told you to go to sleep.”

“You did. You did not say where.” He stood up, looming over her. He was only in a pair of shorts from last night, but even then he looked formidable.

“You knew what I meant.” She tried to move past him, but that was difficult.

“You did not say what you meant.” To that she had no response, so she shoved past him. Charon followed her downstairs, grabbing his shirt on the way.

Breakfast was silent, and honestly Sarah was glad. At the end of the day, she was Charon’s employer.  _I might as well move up to Paradise Falls,_ she thought bitterly. As she played with her bowl of now-soggy Sugar Bombs, she thought again about his contract. Surely he wanted something more than this.  _Something more than you. You can’t even take care of yourself._ Standing up, she walked over to the sink and dumped the bowl. It was almost time to leave. For  _her_ to leave, anyways. She had mentioned to Nova that he might be staying, and to stop by to check on him.

***

The smoothskin had not mentioned last night. In fact, she had barely spoken at all. Typically silence didn’t bother Charon, but this morning it felt suffocating. He tried to think of something to say, but wits and clever words had never been his strong suit. He even tried to think of a joke, but the only one he knew was from Patches, and he didn’t think she would appreciate “Why did the Ghoulette cross the road?” So he watched silently as she frowned into her cereal, her eyebrows drawn together in a furrow. When she dumped her mostly uneaten food in the sink, Charon frowned. She wasn’t eating enough.

***

In the living room, she grabbed her bag. It wasn't that heavy, but she wasn't planning on being gone that long.

"I won't be gone long. I set up a tab with the Brass Lantern and Gob if you need food or anything. I should be back in a week at most," she said, her bag already over her shoulder. He turned to look at her, completely confused. 

"Do you not want me to go with you?" he asked, stepping closer to her. His normally challenging and fierce eyes were subdued, the fire behind them burning low. His entire face was softened, his eyes searching hers.

"I told you before we got to Rivet City you could stay in Megaton. I thought that's what you wanted. I figured nothing had happened that would change that.” She had thought it had changed, but she was wrong. None of it meant anything.

"I can't keep you safe if I am not with you," he said. 

"Like that really matters to you. Your contract is the only thing that makes you care," Sarah accused him. Charon's face turned dark, the fire returning. "If I don't come back, give your contract to Gob. It’s in my desk. He knows what it's like. He'll take care of you." She knew she was being melodramatic, but didn't really care. She was tired of being conflicted about Charon. 

He closed the slight distance between them, leaning his face down until it was level with hers. He cupped her face in his hands. "Is that really what you think?" he growled at her. "You are my employer. That's never going to change and you need to accept that. But do you think I've told any of my other employers any of the shit I've told you? I'm not good at this, Smoothskin, I won't lie about that. But you aren't  _JUST_ my employer. I care about you, as much as I can care about a person. Is that enough?" His eyes stared into hers and she nodded. In most relationships having the person say they cared about you wasn't considered particularly noteworthy, it was pretty implied, but she knew how much it had taken for Charon to say that.

It wasn't a romance novel, but the Wasteland wasn't a novel. It felt more real, and mattered more to her than a thousand 'I love you's scrawled in a book.  _Charon cares about me._ He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss, but she lengthened it, slipping her tongue into his mouth. He moaned into her mouth and she giggled. 

"Does this mean we're going steady?" she teased, getting some of her old fire back. He raised his eyebrow at her.

"If that is what my employer wishes," he stated flatly. When she looked at him slightly hurt, he cracked a smile. 

"Not funny!" she cried, she punching him in the arm. 

"I thought it was pretty humorous," he quipped back. 

"Go get dressed, smartass. And pack your bag. I'm popping over to Gob's to say bye. You better be done by the time I get back," she said, slapping his butt as he turned to walk away. She cackled at the look on his face, and ran out the door before he could come up with a retaliation. 

***

Charon hadn't taken long to pack his bag. While he waited for her to return, he took the opportunity to move the heavier items from her bag to his own. She had been building up her endurance, but she was still recovering. He could handle a larger pack. He had been with employers that required him to carry all of their belongings. His knees twinged at the thought. This wasn't much, and it was the least he could do for her. He hadn't really planned what he said before, but as the words spilled out, he knew it was the truth. He did care about her as much as he was able. Charon didn't think he was capable of actually loving someone, but hopefully this was enough for her. He didn't know how much more he could give.  

***

When she got back from Gob's, their bags were shoved into the corner in the living room. Charon was grabbing food from the fridge, and she quickly walked up to her bedroom to grab her supply of caps. She didn't trust her door lock, even with Wadsworth standing guard. When she walked back downstairs, Charon had stripped his shorts, standing in the middle of the living room completely naked. An ache rolled through Sarah; her eyes tracing along every inch. He saw her looking and tugged on some pants, sliding them over his thighs to settle right below his hips. He bent over and grabbed the clean t-shirt slung over the back of the chair, pulling it over his head. His armor was scattered around the living room,  _from last night,_ Sarah realized, and she grew warm. One of his greaves was at her foot and she handed it to him. He nodded, strapping it to his shin. Sarah stood by the fact that Charon looked intimidating all the time, but in his combat armor, he looked undefeatable. She was supposed to be the Paragon of the Wastelands, but half the time it was him saving her. She had been making stupid decisions, relying on him to bail her out. The supermutants, the raiders, pushing herself when she was injured… If a group of raiders had found her she would’ve been dead without Charon. The wasteland wasn’t going to wait around for her to get her shit together and she needed to grow up. Glancing at a scratch on Charon’s chest plate made Sarah scowl.

“Charon, do you think we should have a symbol? Like the Talon Company has? I think it’s a cool idea, but I don’t know what my symbol would be,” she said, tracing her finger along the scratch. 

“A flame,” Charon replied immediately as he slung his combat shotgun over his shoulder. “You brighten the wasteland… while burning your enemies.”

Sarah smiled at him wolfishly, “Before we leave, let’s stop by Moira’s for some red and orange paint.”

***

The strange mousy woman with the shrill voice hummed below Charon as she painted his chest plate. Moira, as his employer called her, had insisted on drawing no less than ten flame designs, making the smoothskin choose between them all. After she chose, Moira painted it on her armor, incessantly talking in that shrill voice that made Charon’s head numb. When finished and moved on to painting his, the smoothskin stepped outside and Moira fell silent… except for the humming. Charon kept tabs on the mercenary in the corner, but he never even shifted his weight. Just as Moira finished, the smoothskin walked in. She nodded in approval.

“Thanks Moira,” she said, smiling. “This should cover it,” she added, dropping a small pile of caps on the counter. As they walked out of Moira’s shop, the smoothskin looked over at Charon with a wildly determined look. Her new sigil stood proudly over her left breast, drying in the sun. 

 


	25. New Management

Even though the seasons were changing and the Wasteland had cooled considerably, Sarah's clothing was already soaked through, and they had barely traveled seven miles. Jogging around Megaton had been a fun form of exercise; this, not so much. The deadened wasteland scenery did little to brighten her mood. It was always so dead: the blackened trees, the sprigs of grass, even the weathered rocks looked like the nutrients had been drained out of them years ago.

She had maybe another two or three miles left in her before she would have to stop. Meanwhile, looking over, she noticed that Charon was having absolutely no difficulty traveling at their current pace. He wasn’t even out of breath as his long legs ate up the ground in front of him. It was small, but it irritated her.  _Why does he have to be so much better than me at, well, everything?_ Did he secretly work out while they were in Megaton? Did he work out all the time? He must at some point, because there’s no other way he kept up his muscle tone otherwise. She wondered if ghouls used oxygen the same way humans did, but she couldn’t think of a way to ask. One of these days she was going to have to do an in-depth physical. He wouldn’t agree easily, but she could think of a few ways to convince him. Despite the sweat dripping down her face, she grinned at the thought.

She glanced at her Pip-Boy and realized they’d traveled another two miles while she had been lost in her own thoughts. If she pushed herself another two, they’d be at Evergreen Mills. It was loaded with raiders, and there wasn’t a good way to go around without adding miles to their route. From what she understood of the place, there were cliffs all along the train depot, giving tons of cover to pick off the raiders one by one from the safety of the cliff face. It was around 3 o’ clock, and if they could find a good sniping point in the west, the raiders would by trying to find them among the rocks while staring at the sun.

Charon suddenly stopped, and she turned to investigate. He sat down on a large, flat rock and dug through his pack before pulling out a bottle of purified water. He tossed it to her before fishing out his own irradiated bottle.

“I was thirsty,” he said, before chugging down the entire bottle. She sat down her pack as well, before finding her own rock. It felt nice to sit. He tossed her a pack of Fancy Lads. “You didn’t eat this morning.” She was hungry, and she loved snack cakes, even if they were stale. She was swallowing the crumbs in the box when suddenly she realized something.

“Why is all the food and water in your bag?” she asked. Before he could stop her, she grabbed his bag in one hand, then measured it against her own in the other. His weighed at least thirty pounds more. She knew she had packed food and water in her own bag, but when she checked, her bag was missing grenades, water, food, and a few other miscellaneous items. She realized he had taken all of the small, heavy items out of her bag and put it into his own. Even with his handicap, it was her that had been having a hard time keeping up, while he seemed to be taking it easy. Frustrated tears welled up in her eyes, and she angrily wiped them away.  _Why am I always so goddamned weak?_ she thought. Sarah glared at Charon, his eyes widened in confusion. Looking away, she started stuffing things back into her own bag, until they were even again. She stuffed what she wanted into her pockets, and tossed his bag at his feet. Without a word she turned and headed towards Evergreen Mills.

As they ran, she glanced at Charon occasionally, but he seemed too preoccupied to notice her. Her fingers tapped against her pocket anxiously. She hadn’t taken any real drugs since Rivet City. It seemed like so long ago, when in reality it had only been a month. But if she was going to keep up, she needed help, and she wasn’t asking Charon. She pulled out the tablets of Buffout and pretending to cough, popped them into her mouth. The bitter tablets made her grimace, but Charon didn’t even glance her way. She chewed them slowly, and sighed as life flowed into her limbs. It always felt good, but this was exquisite. She was half terrified to hear the beeping of her Pip-Boy, but thankfully it remained silent. The game of chance had been on her side today.

***

Charon hadn’t know how to react when she asked him about the bags. He couldn’t lie, and before he could find a truthful statement, she was already moving things into her own bag. When she suddenly left, he had no choice but to follow, all the while thinking of how he could get stuff out her pack again. He had watched her struggle the entire nine-mile trek, the entire time thankful that he had taken so much weight out. She was fearless, determined, and fucking stubborn; things he simultaneously loved and hated about her. Charon had a hundred pounds on her, but she insisted on carrying her own weight completely. It was fucking ridiculous, but Charon knew there was no point arguing. He heard her cough and glanced over.  _If she gets sick, I swear to God I will carry her right back to Megaton._

They traveled in silence the rest of the way, with only momentary pauses to check her Pip-Boy. When she slowed down, he knew they were getting close. He felt ready. It had been too long since he had killed something. They edged along the northern ledges, before easing their way down the western cliff face. He was impressed with her strategy; it was the perfect position for sniping. He selected a spot to the right of her, with ample rock coverage. Her spot was even better, as even while taking shots it would be nearly impossible to spot her, simply because the only thing to be seen was the barrel of her gun. Once they were in position, he waited on her signal, keeping a lazy track on his first target. When she waved her hand, he aimed for real, and shot the female raider through the neck. A second shot was close behind. He had no idea if his Smoothskin had eliminated her target, but he had his own to worry about. A male raider ran up the stairs quickly, and, finding Charon’s first casualty, began screaming and pulling out his hair, yanking it in thick black clumps. Charon almost felt bad for him.  _What would you do if it was her? Someone could shoot her any moment._  He looked over at her quickly, to make sure she was alright.  _What was that?_ Charon asked himself.  _Get your shit together._ He had never related to his kills that way before. It made everything easier that way. The feeling left him feeling queasy. He focused back in on the raider, now clutching the dead female in his arms. He shot him right between the temples and the raider slumped over his companion. 

Charon rolled his shoulders, still looking through his scope. “I count twelve left,” he heard whispered from his left. They were hiding now, after the echoes of their kills rang down the canyon. He could see two hiding in a makeshift lean to, but couldn’t get a decent shot in. He was content to wait. It’s not like they could go anywhere. After about fifteen minutes of silence, one poked their head out, before slowly slinking into view. Charon put one round in his chest, the force of the bullet spinning his body around, arms billowing limply. Charon could even see the Mutfruit-sized hole the bullet exit had left in his back. By the time dark fell, the raiders were down to four, all holed up in the same building, probably shitting themselves at the thought of whoever was slaughtering them so efficiently.

Charon crawled along the rock facing until he was behind a particularly tall boulder, before standing up to stretch. His arms and legs were cramping from being in the same position for so long. He had grabbed some food out of his pack, along with a bottle of water. He finished his meal quickly before crawling back to his original location. On the way, he tapped the smoothskin’s leg and nodded towards the boulder. He reshouldered his weapon and watched as she crawled towards the same boulder, before standing up. He went back to watching Evergreen Mills. He glanced around what looked to be the hub of the train depot, when what he saw made his blood run cold. He hadn’t seen it in the light of day, but now the station lights drew his attention. It was a mutant, but the sheer size… It had to be twenty-five feet tall. It was unarmed, but one swipe from that could break every rib in a man’s body. He had seen them before, but luckily his previous employers had always had the sense to run quickly in the other direction. He quickly crawled over to the boulder where the smoothskin was.

“We need to leave,” he said, his gravelly voice making it difficult to whisper.

“What? Why?” she asked, trying to swallow the last of her Cram.

“They have a behemoth. We need to leave.”

“Oh, that? Yeah, I saw it earlier. I figured we’d take care of the raiders first, then we can take care of that.” She looked so nonchalant and it irked Charon to no end. He ground his teeth together, glaring at her.

“What?” she asked. When he turned to walk away, she grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back. “Say it.”

“This is foolish. Those beasts are lethal, even unarmed. I cannot get a clear shot from here, which means we have to engage in close combat. My job is to keep you safe, and this is the opposite.” He chose his words carefully, but even he couldn’t hide his level of anger and irritation.

“I’ve dealt with them before. As long as the gate stays closed, we should be able to take pot shots from outside. It’ll be fine, ya worrywart,” she said chuckling. This wasn’t funny, and Charon scowled even deeper.

“Then I will handle it,” he said, his voice cracking at the continued forcing of a whisper. That wiped the smile off of her face.

“Wait, what? No!” she said quickly. “We do it together.”

“You say you wish to give me more freedom to make decisions, but whenever I try you disallow me from these opportunities. Do you wish me to stop asking and simply follow your instruction?” His voice was flat. It was a calculated move, and he could see it pressed into her weaknesses, but it was the only way he could think of to keep her from getting within fifty feet of that monster. She hung her head.

“Fine, if this is what you want, I won’t stop you.” She still wasn't looking at him, so he left, crawling back to his post to stand watch while she finished her food. They both stayed up the entire night, and by the time the sun rose, there were only two raiders left in the shack. It was time to deal with them up close. They didn’t have time to wait them out any longer.

***

Sarah looked over to Charon and pointed to the shack, where the two remaining raiders were staked out, then pointed to herself. Dawn would be soon, and it was better to climb down the rock face before then, under the cover of night. He nodded, and she could tell that he was having the same thoughts as her. They couldn’t afford to wait them out forever. He pointed to himself, then the behemoth enclosure in the middle of the depot. She nodded begrudgingly. She hated this plan but didn’t really have a lot of options. He had backed her into a corner and she knew it.

They quickly packed what little gear they had, before beginning the decent down the cliff. The rocks bit sharply into her hands. It was made worse by how slow she was forced to go. Her muscles were still weak, and the darkness made it difficult to find good spots to grip onto for both her hands and feet. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Charon to see his progress, but when she had both feet firmly on the ground, she knew without looking that Charon would be waiting.

“Wait for me at the depot. Make sure everything is clear and I’ll meet you there,” Sarah whispered. Charon nodded and they went their separate ways, Charon weaving through the old train cars, while Sarah edged up onto the platform where the shack was located. She popped a few more Buffout. The Psycho pinched her leg when she injected it, but it made her feel powerful. The feeling was enjoyable; she hadn’t felt it in a while. Lately she had been feeling weak, and powerless. She didn’t need saving, she was the Savior. The pistol in her hand gleamed in the moonlight. It was better for close combat than her sniper rifle. The gear weighed heavily on her back, and her eyes felt red and dry from the Wastes. When she kicked open the door to the shack, it took less than thirty seconds to finish off the last of the raiders. She wondered how Charon was faring with the behemoth when she heard a loud roar. She quickly left the shack, after grabbing a box of ammo off the shelf. On the way down the ramp, she sucked in her breath. There were people down there. It was easy to see that they were slaves. Their pens were filthy, with piles of excrement in the corner. The smell of urine permeated the air. She forgot about Charon, quickly jumping down to the gate of the pen. She used the bobby pen tucked behind her ear to pick the lock.

“You all need to leave. Is there somewhere you can go?” Sarah said gently to the nearest group.

“What’s the point? We’d only die out in the Wastes,” a man said dejectedly. She looked around. There were children in the group and even from a few feet away, Sarah could see their skin drawn tightly against their bones. It made her sick. She began unloading all of the food and water she had in her bags, passing them out among all of them. She handed a Salisbury Steak to a small boy, and when she extended her hand, the boy whimpered.

“Stay here. Do any of you know how to use a weapon?” she asked, looking around. A few nodded. “You two come with me,” she said, picking out two of them.

After she took them up to the shack, she let them loot the building, while she stood watch outside. On the way back she asked one of the men, “Would you all be able to survive here if I cleared out all of the raiders? I mean, there’s weapons and food. Do you think you could make it?” He looked surprised, then thoughtful.

“Do we have any other choice?”

“No, I guess you don’t,” she replied. “I guess I don’t either.”

By the time she left the slaves, nearly an hour had passed and she knew that Charon would be waiting. As she thought, Charon was passing back and forth in front of the behemoth cage. The top railing glittered and sparked with electricity. She could see the monster slumped at the gate, its fists still clenched even in death. Its face was drawn up in a permanent snarl.  _Fucking supermutants._  When Charon saw her, he sprinted to her, before wrapping his arms around her, clenching her tightly to him. She could feel his face buried in her hair. After a few seconds he set her down, his face devoid of emotion.

“You took too long,” he said quietly. She noticed his voice had been cracking more out in the Wastes.

“I found some slaves and they needed help,” she shrugged.

“Let me guess. You gave them all your food and water,” he said, one eyebrow raised, like he was asking her to tell him otherwise. She blushed, but ignored the comment, not wanting to admit that he was right.

“We have to completely clear out this place. I told the slaves they could stay here, but I can’t leave them if it isn’t safe.” She heard Charon sigh.

“Well, that’s going to be difficult. While I was waiting, I investigated the area. I was able to clear out the foundry quietly, but there’s a cave complex in the basement. It looks deep, and just crawling in I saw at least eight more, and one has a missile launcher. I don’t get these kamikazes and missile launchers underground,” he said grinding his teeth. He did that when he was irritated.

“Well, we know who dies first,” Sarah laughed. Looking at the decaying building, she noticed the dead raiders littering the steps. She remembered killing some of them. She led the way through the ajar doors, hoping this wouldn’t take too long. She needed to find her father.

***

When she approached Charon thought she looked beautiful, even with blood splattered across her cheek. Charon shifted uncomfortably. He had gotten hard; he wanted her so much.  _How fucked up is that?_  Luckily the behemoth had been contained in an electric fence, and Charon was able to kill it without putting in too much effort. While he waited, he had cleared the foundry, sneaking through the building and slipping his knife quietly into their necks. It hadn’t taken long, but he expected her to be waiting for him outside, and when she wasn’t he began to worry. But she told him to wait, and all he could do was pace back and forth. He thought of the male raider screaming at the sight of his dead lover. It made Charon’s stomach turn.  _What would you do?_

He pulled his knife out of a raider’s skull, wiping the brains on the dead man’s clothing. He had been coming out of the cave system, and when he and his companion passed by where Charon and his Smoothskin had been hiding they were quietly disposed of.  _Only six left,_ Charon thought. The next hour was a less-protected edition of their sniping experience outside, and, while the smoothskin hadn’t been fully correct, Charon made sure that the first one he shot was the nut with the missile launcher. Once all of them were taken care of, Charon expectantly settled in at the bar, waiting for the smoothskin to loot through the raiders and their stuff. She looked at him oddly.

“What are you doing?”

“I expected you to collect what you liked from this ‘place,’” he said, enunciating place with a wave of his hand.

“The slaves are going to live here. They’ll need it more than I do,” she said, before moving on. Charon followed her deeper into the cave. The ceiling was low, and he had to crouch, which slowed his progress. Before he rounded the corner, he heard voices.

“Hey, hey, hey! Relax, we can do business. The rest of these guys around here might not want anything to do with you, but I got no problem with you... well, not with your caps at least,” a man said. He was bald, and he looked more like a trader than a raider, but Charon knew that looks could be deceiving.

“All the raiders here are dead. This isn’t an outpost for shitheads anymore. Those slaves outside are free. They’re gonna stay here now. You have three options. You can stay and live with them, you can leave, or you can die,” she said, moving closer to him. She suddenly pulled her knife out and laid it against his throat. “But if you stay, and I find out you’ve hurt these people, I’ll find you. And I’ll spend the next month carving off little pieces of you. Actually, Charon, I’m sure you would do that for me, hmm?” Charon grinned.

“Sure,” he said, moving closer. He pulled out his own knife. The smoothskin’s blade was diddling with the man’s ear. 

“Okay, okay! No need for that! This is my home, I’ll stay and go straight, I swear. Just don’t slice off my ear, I’m ugly enough as is!” The smoothskin laughed as she tucked her knife back into her belt sheath.

“Good, my name is Sarah. Nice you meet you…?”

“Jack, people call me Smiling Jack,” he said, still watching both of them hesitantly.

“Alright Jack, we’re going to stay here tonight. Charon, will you go get the slaves outside? They shouldn’t be hard to find. I’m going to stay here with Jack and get settled,” she said. Charon turned to leave, then had a second thought. He shoved Jack up against the wall, his forearm pressing into his throat.

“Hurt her, and I’ll do more than slice off pieces of you. Look at me. Do you understand?” Charon whispered in his ear. Jack nodded weakly and Charon dropped him suddenly, letting the man fall to the dusty floor. He turned and left without a glance or word to the smoothskin. She wanted the slaves inside and he was going to go get them.

***

“Go ahead, ask,” she said. Jack had been staring at her intently since Charon left.

“What the fuck are you two doing together? You look like that old radio broadcast, Daring Dashwood and Argyle. Except he doesn’t seem like a ‘loyal manservant.’ He looks like a deathclaw on a leash. No offense, but you seem like a good kid. I’ve been around the not-so-good, and he’s one of the worst I’ve ever seen. These people you killed, I’m not going to make excuses for them. They’ve done some fucked-up shit. But that’s what the Wastes does to you. It either kills you or makes you a killer. But that ghoul, he’s got rage in him. And you need to watch, because one day that rage is gonna turn on you.”

Sarah laughed, “You don’t know Charon. He’s got goodness in him. He would never hurt me.” Jack shrugged at her, looking everything but convinced. By the time Charon came back, leading the terrified and weary slaves, Sarah was half asleep. The two former slaves she had spoken with before approached her.

“This… ghoul… said he was with you.” The man’s voice dropped, “He’s scaring the children.” Sarah glanced at Charon, then at the children, their eyes glued to him.

“Jack, settle them in. You two are going to have a meeting with Jack tomorrow. He’s going to help you settle here. He has given me his word on your safety. Let me know if there’s any reason I need to doubt that,” she said, nodding them away. The adults led the children away, and Charon stepped closer to her, waiting for her instructions for him.

“Charon, you don’t always have to wait for my whims you know,” she sighed.

“I know, but you need sleep, and I prefer staying close to you. Especially in a dangerous place,” he said, taking another step towards her. “There are two beds away from everyone else. You need to sleep.” Sarah didn’t have the energy to do anything but follow Charon mildly. He took her hand. They walked past some stripper poles and Sarah blushed. When she saw the beds, she was so tired, she almost didn’t strip down her armor before she flopped down. Once that laborious task had been completed, she leaned back closing her eyes immediately.

“Charon?” she asked. He grunted in response.

“Aren't you going to sleep with me?" she asked, trying to stay awake. She felt his weight creak down on the bed, and she scooted over to make room. Her cheek pressed against his still-armored chest. It felt cool and pleasant. She traced her fingers along the painted flames on his breastplate. The last thing Sarah remembered was the feeling of gentle fingers running through her hair. 


	26. Daddy Issues

“No,” Charon said firmly. He shook his head, staring at his employer. She had one hand placed on the weird computer pod containing her father. Her eyes barely left his face, muddled and indistinct through the colored glass.

“Charon, it’s the only way. There’s one empty pod. I can go in and get my father. It’ll be fine, I promise,” she said, finally glancing up at him. Her eyes were pleading. This entire place gave Charon a bad feeling. People didn’t live here. It was too clean, too sterile. The lights were dimmed, and the entire Vault was silent except for the whirring of machines. Robobrains puttered along, their clawed arms working deftly. Their brain sloshed around slightly in the jelly that filled their domed head. Charon had seen one once before the war, he didn’t remember where, but he had the same reaction now that he had then. Disgust. 

“Let me go instead,” Charon replied, already knowing she would say no.

“It has to be me. I have to be the one.” Charon sighed.

“Okay, okay. Okay…” he said, trying to convince himself.

She took her hand off of the pod. She walked up to him, lifting her feet over the thick cords leading from the pods to the central computer. Her hips rolled seductively. Charon loved watching her move, especially towards him. She stood in front of him, her fingers tracing along the flames decorating his armor. “Will you wait for me?”

“You know I will,” Charon replied, watching her hands. They were strong, with calluses and scars, and her nails were ragged and dirty from her anxious biting, but they were beautiful all the same. All of her was so intoxicating. She cupped her hand behind his head, pulling him down to her.

“Can I have a good luck kiss? You don’t have to,” she said, qualifying her statement, but she didn’t need to. Charon pressed his lips to hers, wanting to hold her there, keep her from leaving him. Charon fought himself to keep from crushing her, forcing her to submit, to stay. He couldn’t do that, and didn’t really want to. It was just that dark part of him that almost never stopped whispering. Her lips was chapped from being outside, but soft, and there was a sweetness to her kiss that hurt him in a way he couldn’t describe. Her mouth tasted like the dust they’d been breathing since leaving Evergreen Mills, combined with the Nuka Cola she’d drank earlier. He wanted it to last forever, but the sooner she left, the sooner she could come back to him. When he broke the kiss, her eyes were still closed, and her mouth was still parted, like it expected him to come back.

“Sarah,” he said quietly. Her eyes flicked open. “Before I met you, I didn't know I could care about another person. Please come back.” He didn't want to consider what he would do if she never came back. 

She pulled his face back in, slipping her tongue into his mouth before biting his lip. When she pulled away, his lip still between her teeth, Charon winced. He licked once and tasted the salty copper tang of his own blood. She grinned playfully.  

“See you in a while, cowboy,” she said, tipping an imaginary hat. Her eyes had some of her old fire back, and Charon's mouth went dry staring after her. She swung herself up into the empty pod, and when it closed the air exhausted with a whoosh. Now Charon just had to wait.

***

She would’ve taken more than a quick kiss, but there were more pressing matters at hand. Hearing Charon say her name had made her heart squeeze. She hated leaving him. Still, right now her father was more important. She needed to get him out of whatever the hell this was. The computer system said these people were 200 years old, but that couldn’t be right. There’d be nothing left but bones and dust, unless they were ghouls.

The glass was almost opaque, and she couldn’t see clearly, but the computer system had all occupants named except for one. It had to be her father. She didn’t want to enter the computer pod, but hacking into the computer system was impossible, and there was no way to open the pod containing her father otherwise. The only solution was going in.

Charon had volunteered; he always volunteered if it was dangerous. But she couldn’t let him do this. It had to be her. As she closed her eyes in the pod, she thought about going back to Megaton, with her father, with Charon. She could finally be happy.

***

As Charon sat waiting, he had a terrible, horrifying realization. If Smoothskin succeeded, he was about to meet the father of the girl he’d been fucking. _You know she’s more than that._ He’d never met a girl’s parents before, but something told him that they don’t like corpses dating their daughter. He looked in the glass of the pod she was in, and his curdled eyes gazed back. His hair stood up in patches, and he halfheartedly tried to smooth it down. If he had been more of a pussy, it would’ve been enough to make him cry. Instead, he hung his head, trying to think of a way to come across as different from how he was. He knew how ugly he looked. All ghouls were ugly. But when all ghouls are ugly, you stop thinking about it after awhile. You're just one of many ugly mugs wandering around together. But smoothskins never stop thinking about it, never stop talking about it. One look from her father would be all it would take. He wouldn’t even need to hear about all of the terrible things Charon had done. That would just be icing on the cake. Proof of what monsters ghouls are, feral or not. 

One hour passed, then two, then three. Charon took this opportunity to clean and repair her weapons, as well as reorganize the bags again, making sure to take the heavier items for himself once more. They were running low on food and water, since she had given over half their rations to the Evergreen Mills settlement, but they had enough to make it back. When they had left, the former slaves seemed in high spirits, although they still were wary of him, especially the children. Charon tried not to think about the fact that they had warmed up to Smiling Jack quicker than him. _Who can blame them?_

He stood up suddenly when a pod opened, but it wasn’t hers. A moan came from within the pod, and slowly a man crawled out, clearly weak from being sedentary for so long. Charon wasn’t sure whether to run or help. Once the man was standing outside of the pod, leaning against it for support, he noticed Charon. Charon immediately saw the family resemblance. Their hair was exactly the same shade, save the gray streaked through, but there was also something about the man’s face that was familiar. Like a rough sketch of his employer, if the mouth was slightly thinner and had different eyes. She must’ve gotten her eyes from her mother.  

“Who are you? My daughter…Sarah. Where is she?” the man struggled to speak, his throat dry. His head whipped around, like Charon had done something to her. Charon handed him a bottle of water and nodded towards the pod adjacent to his. As if on schedule it opened, and Sarah stepped out, only slightly unsteady. She saw her father and launched into him, knocking the almost-empty container from his hands.

“Daddy!” she cried, and Charon could see how much she loved her father, her joy and relief etched into her face. It was a tender moment, a rare sight out in the Wastes.

“Sarah, you saved me. I was afraid I’d be trapped in there forever, but what are you doing here?” He glanced over at Charon. “And with one of _them_.” It sounded like an accusation, and Charon was surprised how much this stranger’s words hurt. He had been right. No-one wanted to see their daughter with a corpse. Her father’s eyes cut into him, laying open everything Charon was ashamed of and presenting it to him. 

***

“I came here to find you. And this is Charon. He’s my friend,” Sarah said, slightly angry. Her father had left her, and now he was going to be the one asking questions? Her father looked at Charon again, the disdain evident on his face.

“Well, I'm glad YOU did. This certainly wasn't how I expected things to turn out. I wasn't ready for Braun, or I might've fared better,” her father said, slightly sheepishly.

“No shit dad. I’ve spent every moment since you left trying to find you. And you’re acting like everything’s fine. What about me, dad? Didn’t you care about me at all?” Tears fell unbidden, and she hated feeling so vulnerable. She hated arguing like this with her dad, especially in front of Charon. Sarah never wanted anyone to see her this way. She had been trying so hard, and it felt like her father wasn’t seeing any of that.

“Language, young lady! And Sarah, what about you? Why, in fact, are you outside the Vault at all? As much as I appreciate your help, you were supposed to stay there, to make a life for yourself there, not out here!” James said, waving his arms around. He was angry, and it only made her feel worse. Their words were echoing throughout the lifeless vault, compounded by the frantic beeping of the pods containing the now-dead vault residents.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Sarah heard Charon grind out between gritted teeth. Both of them looked at him, surprised. “She left the only home she ever knew. Correction, she was forced out, and she entered this shithole Wasteland and made something of herself.” Charon’s voice was low, but it had a feral power behind it that made Sarah’s hair raise. “Do you know what they call her? She’s the Savior of the Wastes. She’s changed this godforsaken hellhole one pile of shit at a time, and she did it all for you.” Charon pointed at her and her father intermittently and her eyes traveled between the two men, merely an onlooker at this point. “She broke herself down and built herself back up so she could survive in this cesspit, just to find you. And you’re going to make her feel guilty?” Charon laughed as if answering himself. “No. If you cared about your daughter at all, you’d get on your knees and beg forgiveness for leaving her behind.” Sarah saw her father tense up, and his brows knitted together in anger. Back in the vault, she would’ve hated anyone that talked to her father that way, but now she felt… thankful, protected. Someone could actually see how hard she was trying.

***

James was still weak from the stasis, but he squared up to this ghoul. Charon. The ghoul pushed himself off the pod he had been leaning on. He was much taller than James had originally thought. 

“And who the fuck are you to get in this conversation? This is between me and my daughter,” James said, putting one hand possessively on Sarah’s shoulder. James' lip lifted in disgust. The fact that this _thing_ thought he could speak to him this was was outrageous. He knew what they turned into. They were beyond help, beyond saving, like a Yao Guai or a Radscorpion. A feral beast. 

“You might want to ask your daughter. She’s changed since she’s been out here. She had to survive. Without you.” There was an unspoken statement in his words, and James’ face grew red at the implication. _It wasn’t true; it couldn’t be true of course._ James thought about shooting him, but he realized his weapon was still in the pod. Sarah cut in between them before he could reach for it.

“Charon’s right. I have changed, dad. You left me. I needed you, and you weren’t there. They killed Jonas, you know. They tried to kill me,” Sarah’s voice trembled, and James felt a pang of guilt, but she didn’t understand. Project Purity was everything. It was more than him, or her mother, or even her. It was about everyone. He needed to make her understand.

“I understand that you're angry. You have a right to be. I had no idea they would kill Jonas. Perhaps the choice I made wasn't the right one. At the time, I thought I was doing what was best for you. I swear that,” he said. He thought about Jonas, a good kid. He was always trying to help.

“You could have told me you were leaving,” Sarah sniffled, tears continuously streaking down her cheeks. It always broke his heart to see her cry. He remembered her back in the Vault, crying over something Butch had done. Her big, doe eyes had always broken him in ways nothing else could. Just like her mother’s.

“Honey, I told you, I wanted a different life for you. I had hoped the Overseer would seal the Vault, making it impossible for you to leave. I wanted you to have a life, have a family. Find love,” he said hesitantly. His eyes travelled back to Charon. “It’s not too late. We can fix the Memorial and be a family again. Once the water is pure, people will come from all over. You can have a life with someone. Come with me and help me finish what your mother and I started.”

Sarah pulled out from under his hand. She had stopped crying and her eyes were filled with resentment. “Dad, I don’t need you to tell me what to do or how to live my life. It’s too late for that. I don’t need your help and I don’t want it. I'm not going with you.” She walked over to Charon and grabbed his hand, looking at James defiantly. _This can’t be._

James was livid. He knew it was because of this ghoul companion of hers. He had corrupted her; his daughter felt completely alien to him now. He remembered how proud he was when the G.O.A.T. assigned her as a doctor. He had spent the next year teaching her everything he could, pushing her to be even better than he was. Often he would walk in the clinic to find her asleep, a medical textbook as her pillow. He didn't know this girl with her worn armor and blood-spattered face. 

“No. You’re coming with me. This ghoul isn't good for you. Their kind isn’t meant to be with our kind. What happens when he goes feral? Are you going to but a bullet in his brain? Because that’s the only road you have. Don’t you want children? A family? A life? People won’t accept this. Please, Sarah, honey. I love you, and I know what’s best.”

The anger and resentment drained from her face and was replaced by a look of horror. “Like when you left me? Did you know best then? Like just now? I _saved_ you. Did you know best about Braun? I can take care of myself, dad. Maybe it’s time you start doing the same. I love you, but I think it’s best if we go our separate ways for now. Maybe in a while I’ll come to the Memorial for a visit. But I need time.”

James was shocked. “But Sarah, coming all this way after me... I'd have thought you'd want to help…. I have to keep going; I can't stop now,” he said, almost speaking to himself. He turned away from her. This wasn’t the daughter he knew. He didn’t know this person. He grabbed his gun from the pod, and left the vault. He thought she would change her mind, but she just watched him leave.

***

When her father left, the tears turned into outright sobs, and she sat down, too exhausted to stand any longer. Charon sat down beside her, opening his arms. Sarah crawled into him, letting him wrap her up. She felt consumed by him, but at this moment she didn’t want to exist anyways. She almost didn’t recognize her father anymore, but she realized he hadn’t changed, she had. Was she a bad person? Was he a bad person? She didn’t know anymore, and thinking about it made her feel like she couldn’t. She thought about what she would do now. Every second out of the Vault had been working towards finding her father, and now that she had found him, she had nothing. An emptiness devoured her, ripping into her with wild abandon.


	27. Ghoul to Ghoul

The trip back from Vault 112 was quiet. Charon thought back to the first trip they had taken together. It had only been a few months, but everything seemed so different now. He had been cold and distant to his new employer, trying to figure out who she was, what she would make him do. He had hated her, hated everyone. She had defied his expectations and slowly wormed her way in, disarming him, treating the centuries of walls he had thrown up like they were no more than ant hills to step over. She felt so alive; her energy made the air crackle with electricity. She was kind in a real, tangible way, without demanding praise and reveling in the attention she regularly drew. Charon glanced at her warily. Now she seemed like a shell of herself, empty and drained. 

She didn't even do her customary wave to the guard as she entered Megaton or say hello to the robot she insisted on keeping in her house. She just walked up the stairs and closed her door, dropping her bag with a loud thump. Charon didn't know what to do, but he saw that she needed space, so that night for the first time in a long time he slept in his own bed... or tried to, anyways. The next morning, he got up and went downstairs, expecting her to at least come downstairs to eat. At noon, he knocked on her door and when there was no reply, he pushed it open slowly. She was in bed, her back to him. He could barely see her outline because she was bundled in so many blankets. It wasn't cold, but Charon wasn't foolish enough to think that's why she did it. 

"You need to eat," Charon said. He knew she wasn’t asleep.

"I'm not hungry," he heard, muffled through the blankets. 

"Still." 

"Charon, please. Just. Leave me alone," her voice cracked with sadness. He didn't want to leave her, but he didn't know what to say to get her to let him stay. His training hadn't prepared him for any of this. When he closed the door, he heard muffled sobs and his feelings of uselessness intensified. 

By four in the afternoon he thought about checking in on her again, but decided against it. Instead he sent in Wadsworth with the Mutfruit he knew she liked and some water. After only a couple of minutes the robot floated back out, still carrying the items. 

"It seems the Mistress is not in need of these, and has requested that I leave her alone until she has further use of my services," the robot haughtily replied at Charon's questioning. If Charon had been a cat, his tail would've flicked at the robot's condescending remark. As such, it was difficult not to beat it to death with a crowbar. He suspected his employer would be upset if he did. Charon swallowed his pride, but after that no amount of persuasion would get the robot to bother his Mistress, not that persuasion had ever been Charon's strong suit. Not with words, anyways. 

Feeling desperate, he went to the Saloon, hoping Gob or Nova could do something he couldn't. It was getting late, and the saloon was packed by the time he got there. The locals were used the sight of Charon, but only at the side of their Savior. By himself, he drew endless stares, none of them friendly. Their eyes were filled with accusations and he heard one woman whisper, "Where's Vaultie? You don't think he..." Before Charon could hear the woman finish her statement, Nova nodded him up the stairs and he pushed his way through the crowded bar, up into the empty second floor. Charon followed the former prostitute into what he presumed was her bedroom. He wondered idly how many men she'd led up here over the years. 

Nova turned to face him, her mouth set in a hard line. "Is she dead?" She seemed braced for the worst. 

"She is alive." The woman's shoulders visibly dropped as the dread flowed out of her. "She found her father, and... it did not go well. She won't get out of bed. She won't eat. I don't know what to do," Charon said dejectedly. He slumped down in a chair and looked at the floor. "She won't talk to me. I don't know how to fix this. I don't know how to fix us." Charon couldn't believe he was telling all this to a stranger, but the fact was he didn't know what else to do. He felt naked exposing himself like this to someone, anyone.

At that moment Gob opened the door and Charon looked at him, the same worried, tense expression that had been on Nova's face. "She's fine," Nova said and Gob smiled, visibly relieved. 

"When I saw you alone I feared the worst," Gob said to Charon. For some reason that made Charon sick to his stomach. _What if she did die out there, how would I tell these people? It would be my fault._ He gripped his arm tightly, wrapping them around himself, and before he realized it Nova and Gob were both grabbing him. As they pulled his arm away, Charon saw blood gushed down his elbow, a piece of flesh dangling off his forearm. "Go get water and a stimpak," Gob said to Nova, still holding onto Charon's arm. When they were alone Gob crouched in front of Charon.  

"You love her," Gob said knowingly. Charon felt like a child even though Gob was clearly younger than him. To smoothskins, all ghouls looked the same, with no distinction for age, but once you had lived among them long enough, your eye learned to recognize the signs. 

"I don't know if I can love someone," he admitted to the fellow ghoul. It was a raw, honest statement. 

"You need to work on admitting how you feel about her. If you don't, eventually you'll lose her, to someone that can tell her how loved she is." Charon looked at him with barely-controlled rage. The thought of losing her...  "I know about being a ghoul and loving a smoothskin. It's hard and you doubt yourself every day. You look at yourself and wonder what she could ever see in you. But there's a reason and you have to trust in that. Do you trust her?"  

"I do." Gob rested his hand on his shoulder and Charon didn't even have the urge to shrink away. Charon had thought he had been friends with his employer, but this feeling towards Gob was completely new. He wasn't sure they were really friends, but he was pretty sure that Gob was the closest he was going to get in this lifetime. He understood in a way that no one else could. When Nova came back they bandaged his arm, pouring the irradiated water over the cotton. Charon flexed. It was painful, but not exceedingly so. It would heal quickly enough. When he got up to leave he extended his hand to Gob. He and Nova looked at each other surprised, before Gob took Charon's hand in his own. Charon couldn't remember ever doing it before, but it was the only way he knew to express his gratitude. Gob’s hand felt just like his. It was comforting.

***

When Charon left, Nova looked over at Gob, stunned. "What the hell was that?" 

Gob gave her a small smile. “He just needed a talk. Ghoul to ghoul as it were." He pulled Nova into an embrace and gave her a long kiss. "I love you." Gob had been too afraid to say it before, afraid it would scare her, afraid it would drive her away. But he was tired of being afraid. Nova's eyes flashed open. 

"I love you too!” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Gob. He could feel all of her through the thin Brahmin skin, and he thought about throwing her down on the bed, but the bar was waiting, and Jericho was probably knee-deep in jacked hooch. Nova laughed and Gob looked at her questioningly.

“Vaultie owes me some money. She said I would cave first," she said, smiling coyly. He pulled her in for another kiss.

 _Women_ , Gob thought, chuckling to himself. He hooked his arm around her waist and walked downstairs, though he was careful to drop it before anyone in the bar could see. He wasn't ready for that, yet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I love Gob. I think he's the most underrated character in Fallout 3 to be honest. I feel like Gob and Charon would be friends, both as the only ghouls in Megaton and as some of the only ghouls know what its like to love a smooth skin. Anyways, love, love, love me some Gob anything, but Gob and Charon was especially sweet.


	28. A Present for the Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no self control. I'm also trying to avoid all of my responsibilities. You all benefit with a new chapter.

_You love her._ Gob’s words echoed in his head. Charon had been wandering around Megaton for a while; he wasn’t ready to go back home. _Home._ She had given him that. He didn’t love her. He couldn’t love her. He remembered the love his parents had, how his father had told him someday he would find his own love. He had given up on that years ago. But thoughts of her pulsated in his head. 

She was fierce in battle, ruthless to her enemies. A few years more years of experience and she would be unstoppable. She was brave, never flinching from anything even when she should. Caution was not one of her strong suits. But kindness was. She was caring and kind, sticking to her morals in a place that made you question every decision. She was beautiful, but Charon had seen plenty of beautiful women in his life. Her face wasn’t how she cracked open his skin and crawled inside, rooting out the bitterness and the anger. She was beautiful in the way that truly mattered, in the way that wouldn’t fade as she got older.  

Slaves, beggars, prostitutes; it didn’t matter to her, she was kind to all of them. She even saw something in him, leaning against the grimy wall in the Ninth Circle, scowling and trying to scare her. She didn’t care about money, or material things; giving freely, even when she didn’t have it to give. All of that made him respect her, even care for her, but he loved the way she chewed her lip when she was reading, her legs tucked under her, and her brows knitted together. He loved the way she sang and hummed when she was happy, her voice floating across the air, like a songbird come back to life. He loved the stories she told about her life, the minute details she threw into her stories, so real even Charon could see it when he closed his eyes. He even loved the way she insisted on standing on equal footing with him, refusing to be carried in life, even though it had dealt her such an unfair hand. He loved those things about her, but he still couldn’t admit to himself that he loved her. But he needed to do something to bring her back. 

Charon quickly went back home, grabbing his bag from the doorway. He thought about telling her he was leaving, but instead found Wadsworth.

“Hey, bolts. I’m going out, if she gets up, tell her I’ll be back,” he said quickly, his words tripping over each other. Without waiting for a response, he closed the door behind him.

“Well, I neve-,” he heard the robot say, interrupted by the closing of the door. Charon didn’t know what he was looking for, but he was going to find something. Something that showed her how much he cared about her. Something that made her come back to him. And he would stay out in the Wastes until he found it, or died trying.

***

For Sarah, the days passed in cycles of apathy, anger, and sadness. Eventually all of it faded away into nothing. She felt, just, nothing. She thought about getting up a few times, but the prospect exhausted her more than anything else, so she stayed in her bed, alone. Charon hadn’t bothered her again, and one part of her was grateful to have the space, but another part of her wished he had pushed harder. Did he really care that little? _That’s not fair,_ she told herself. She had pushed him away. It was childish to get mad that he listened. Wadsworth had checked on her once as well, and she had sent him away. Everything seemed so pointless. Her father had been a disappointment. She was a disappointment. If it wasn’t for her Pip-Boy, she wouldn’t have even known if it was day or night. Her stomach clenched in pain. She wasn’t sure how long it had been since she had eaten, but she welcomed the pain. At least then she felt something other than misery.

The next time she woke up, her mouth was intensely dry. Sarah could feel the deep cracks in her lips. It was painful, even when she licked them. Sarah couldn’t remember when that had happened. Looking on the desk for something to drink, she noticed the bottle of scotch sitting on her desk. It had gathered a film of dust, even though when she had found it on one of her first trips out into the Wastes she had cleaned it and wrapped a piece of ribbon around the neck. Her father loved scotch, and she had saved it, wanting a present to give him when she finally found him. She laughed bitterly and picked up the bottle. Like father, like daughter. She unscrewed the bottle, the pungent smell filling the air. It reminded her of iodine. The liquid burned the cracks in her lips, little etches of fire, and when it hit the back of her throat she coughed, gagging at the sensation. On her empty stomach, the scotch made her slightly nauseous, and she could feel it sloshing around, but she drank more anyway.

It felt good, and it felt good to feel good for once. The bottle was halfway gone, but she kept drinking. _Maybe I’ll die,_ she thought. The idea didn’t scare her. She didn’t necessarily want to die, but it was more of an apathy towards living. _What’s the point?_ She asked herself. A voice in her head whispered, _Charon._ Fuck. Was he really better off with her? He was still a slave with her. At least he was safe in the Ninth Circle. Now he was constantly saving her ass. She was going to get him killed. She was so drunk at this point, she didn’t realize she was crying, or that she wasn’t alone.

“Smoothskin! Smoothskin!” It sounded like a crow was cawing in her ear. She closed her eyes, squeezing them shut and hoping the sound would go away. She was being shaken, and her head lolled forward. Suddenly sick, she vomited. The taste of the acid in her stomach and the scotch left a bitter, acrid taste in her mouth. What followed was a haze of feelings more than anything else. She was being swayed, something pinched her arm. The lights were too bright. People were talking; one sounded angry. Sarah hoped Charon was okay. 

***

When Charon had returned, he ran up the stairs, elated with what he had found. When he opened her door, he saw Smoothskin on the floor, a completely empty bottle of scotch in her hand. She didn’t respond to his voice, and for a moment he thought she was dead. But when he shook her, she vomited on the floor and he sighed in relief. He quickly took her to the infirmary, telling Wadsworth to fetch Nova. She came quickly, and luckily had dealt with alcohol poisoning before, and combined with the infirmary, it was easy to get her stabilized.

“Why weren’t you with her?” Nova asked angrily as she closed the bedroom door behind her.

“I had something to take care of,” Charon muttered defensively.

“It better have been worth it. I’ve seen bigger people than her die from that much alcohol,” Nova berated him, poking him angrily in the chest. Charon thought about how he would’ve reacted to that a year ago, even six months ago. She would’ve been lucky to walk away with broken fingers. But he didn’t feel the same urges he did before. _Goddamn, I’m going soft._

“I got her a present…” Charon said, glancing downstairs.

“Hmph. Well, let me see. Is it clothes? Girls always like clothes. Perfume, jewelry? I know Moira has a couple decent pieces. I’ve had my eye on some earrings personally, but I could see Vaultie going for a necklace. Maybe some pearls?” Nova babbled on, her eyes taking on a faraway look as she talked about baubles. “Of course she couldn’t wear it out in the Wastes, but there’s always an occasion to be found for pearls…”Charon headed downstairs while Nova chatted on. He had left it in the kitchen, and when Nova saw it, she whistled.

“Okay, I take it back. Scratch the pearls. Do you know how long she’s gone on about one of these? She’s asked everyone, but they don’t exactly grow on trees, and the people that have them don’t part ways easily. I personally am not a fan,” she said turning up her nose, “but you did well. I’m assuming she doesn’t know yet?” Charon shook his head. “Well, it’ll be a nice cure for a hangover I’m sure,” she laughed. “But I need to get back to the bar. Let me know if you need me again, okay?”

“Thank you,” Charon said. The words felt odd coming out of his mouth to someone other than his Smoothskin.  

Nova smiled at him, her eyes crinkling in the corners. “You’re one of us now.” 

After Nova left, he sat downstairs waiting for his employer to wake up, stroking the present he had gotten her absentmindedly. He hoped it was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, wonder what the present is :3 It's a good one I promise.


	29. A Particularly Errant Curl

"Get up," Sarah heard Charon say. She was still mostly asleep and she moaned at him. "Get up," he repeated, slightly louder. Her head was throbbing. She vaguely remembered drinking. The headache pounding in her head confirmed the hazy memory. She tried to remember the why she had been drinking and the waves of emotion about her father came flooding back.

"No." she rolled back over, intending on going back to sleep. Suddenly a cascade of icy water poured over her. Sarah sat up, sputtering. "What the actual fuck, Charon?" she shrieked. She was shivering violently from the cold. Her sopping blankets and clothing clung to her body. She got up, holding her arms out and watching the water drip off of her. Charon smiled insolently. Sarah wanted to break what was left of his nose. 

"We're going out. You need to train and practice. None of which happens while you mope in bed," Charon lectured. He was already dressed in his armor, and his shotgun was thrown over his shoulder.

"Fuck you. I'm not moping. I'm sad. I'm angry. I need time. Or don't you understand human emotion?" Sarah threw the words out of her mouth. It was a shit thing to say, but she was in a shit mood. After she said it, she knew it had hurt Charon and she regretted it. 

"You've had time. Now you need to do something," Charon said, his face barely concealing the pain he felt at her words. "Besides, if you do well, I have a gift for you." Sarah perked up at this, her father temporarily forgotten. She had always been inquisitive, sneaking out of her playpen, exploring the restricted areas of Vault 101. She hated secrets and wanted to know this one immediately.

"How do I know I'll like it? Or that it's worth it?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing. Maybe he would tell her now and she could decide for herself whether it was worth leaving her room.

***

"You will, and it is, I promise. Now, are you coming?" He arched what was left of one eyebrow. Huffing, she started stripping off the still-wet clothing. Charon watched her shamelessly, taking in the curve of her breast as she leaned down to pull off one particularly-stubborn wet sock. Her nipples were hard from the chill of the water, and Charon wanted nothing more than to suck one into his mouth and earn an illicit moan from her lips. He glanced further down her body. Her ribs were more pronounced now; he would make sure she ate before they left. The light brown curls between her legs were so feminine and beautiful that in spite of himself, Charon reached up and brushed against one particularly errant curl. She shivered and looked at his hand, then at him. Her pupils dilated. He could tell she needed this, needed something to get her thinking about something other than her father. A selfish part of Charonwanted her thinking about him, always him. 

He moved his hand up and slipped one finger into her. She moaned, just like he remembered, heady and sweet. Her legs buckled a little, and Charon removed his finger, earning a pout from the Smoothskin. He scooped her up and walked the short distance to his bedroom. He set her down on the bed, a little roughly, before slipping his finger back into her. Her head tilted back, and the sheets were crumpled up in her hands as she gripped them.

"Yes..." she moaned. Charon was kneeling on the floor next to the bed, his face too perfectly level to pass up the opportunity in front of him. He grabbed her hips, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh, and pulled her closer to the edge, before diving his tongue into her. She screamed loudly, and Charon smiled, his cheeks warm between her thighs. He missed touching her, tasting her, the feeling of her tight, slick wetness sucking him in. Charon's fingers worked in and out of her while his tongue flicked her sensitive nub. Her hand stroked the back of his head, as her increasingly desperate moans told him that she was getting close. Charon paused his attentions, and she desperately clung to his face, trying to pull him back.

"Please..." she mewled. Her body was trembling. Charon grinned wickedly. "Please Charon, don't stop licking.." her voice trailed off seductively.

He decided to play dumb, "Licking what?" He cocked his head to the side and she bit her lip in frustration.

"Don't stop licking my pussy..." she said softly, her eyelashes lowering. Her face blushed beautifully and Charon's cock pressed into the side of the bed. Hearing her say that had made him want her so badly, but this was for her. He gave her one long lick, before returning to her clit. His fingers found her easily.

"Oh god, oh yes! Yes! Charon please don't stop.... I'm getting so close!" Every word had a little bit more desperation and when the waves of her orgasm hit her, Charon could visibly see them roll through her body. It was satisfying to watch. Her moans were nothing short of awe-inspiring, and when she collapsed back to the bed, spent, Charon licked his lips. He stood up, his knees screaming at their prolonged torture. His cock was still pressing painfully against his armor.

"When you can stand again, get dressed and come downstairs. There's still daylight left. If you do well, I'll do that again when we get back. And you'll get your present too," he said confidently, as he shifted his pants uncomfortably. Charon was surprised at his own forward attitude. From the looks of it, so was Smoothskin. Maybe it was him changing. Or maybe it was just him accepting he had already changed. Either way, Charon was amused to note it didn't take long for her to get dressed and she seemed almost impatient when he insisted that she eat. He made her eat Brahmin steak, a Mutfuit, a box of Instamash and drink a Nuka Cola before he was satisfied. When they set off, Charon turned off every thought but the idea of keeping her safe. And to do that, he needed to make her stronger. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Lone Wanderer has too much shit to do to worry about a little body hair. Had to throw some baby smut in there. More smut to come because well. There's never enough smut.


	30. Thrown to the Yao Guai

“C’mon, Charon. This is ridiculous,” Sarah panted as she wiped a sweaty strand of hair out of her face.

“If you would focus, it wouldn’t be so ridiculous,” Charon said. His weight was shifted to the balls of his feet, and his knees were bent. Sarah’s knife was in her right hand, and the blade had been wrapped and taped to dull the blade. Not that it mattered. Sarah had been trying for two hours to make contact, without success. She came within a hair’s breadth once, before Charon slipped away. It was infuriating.

Sarah angled up towards Charon’s face in a slashing motion, before switching at the last moment and aiming for his right arm. Charon apparently noticed this switch in direction, because the next thing Sarah knew, he was gripping her wrist tightly, causing her to drop the knife. She shoved him away.

“Is this just an ego trip for you? Just to point out how much better you are than me?” Sarah picked up her knife out of the dirt.

“How old am I?” Charon asked calmly.

“Over two hundred, if you were telling the truth before,” Sarah said. 

“I was. I’ve been killing almost all my life. It’s like breathing to me. You have talent, but if you waste it by laying in bed all day, you might as well slit your throat yourself,” Charon observed. His voice was serious and heavy. 

Sighing, Sarah twirled the knife in her hand. “Okay. Do what you did again, but slowly.” 

A couple hours later, Sarah had managed to touch Charon a total of three times. It wasn’t much, but Charon seemed pleased with their progress. He had taken her out into middle-of-nowhere Wasteland. Nothing was around, and the only sounds were of their own breathing and the occasional howl of stray dogs off in the distance. On the way back, Charon led the way, mostly because of Sarah’s sore muscles. When he motioned for her to stop, she crept up to him slowly. Nearby, a yao guai was standing on its back feet, pawing at a dead tree. Suddenly, Charon shoved a 10 mm into her hand, pushed her forward, and shouted. Charon then climbed up a steep rock face and sat, his long legs swinging.

“Practice makes perfect,” he called down to her. Sarah flipped him off. The yao guai was quickly approaching her, and she aimed at its shoulder, hoping to cripple it. The beast bellowed in pain, and slightly slowed its pace. Sarah then aimed for its head, but her arms were shaking from sparing with Charon. She steadied her breathing and counted to three. A shot rang out, and the mutation thudded to the ground. Charon hopped to the ground and trotted out to the yao guai.

“Good shot. Even if you cheated with the shoulder,” Charon said. He pulled out his own knife and began butchering the animal. 

“What the fuck? You literally just threw me to the yao guai!” Sarah shouted at him. He stood up, with blood staining his arms up to the elbow. He looked at her, then at his hands, like he didn’t know what to do.

“I’m trying, Smoothskin. I don’t know how else to get you back,” he admitted, still looking at his hands. His voice quivered slightly. Sarah knew she hadn’t been making this easy. He was trying. And she had been caught up in so much self-pity that she hadn’t been willing to see that. She walked up to him, the smell of copper thick on his skin. She yanked on the top of his chest armor, pulling him to her level. She kissed him once, chastely.

***

“I’m sorry,” she confessed, glancing down. He kissed her forehead.

“Don’t be sorry. Be better,” he countered. She nodded, then bit her lip. It was fucking adorable.

“Did I do well enough to get my present?” she asked.

“I think so,” he smiled. Charon turned around, and went back to carving the yao guai. While he worked, he noticed her working on her stance, slashing and stabbing at an invisible opponent.

The meat swung on some rope as they walked home. About halfway there, Charon heard humming; it was the most beautiful sound in the entire world.


	31. A New Master

Sarah's jaw dropped open when she saw her present. She turned to Charon. "You-how-where-?" She was speaking so quickly she couldn't form her words correctly. She knelt down and squeezed it into her chest. She turned back to Charon and started to cry. "Thank you," she said, kissing it softly. 

***

*Flashback*

 

When Charon left Megaton, he didn't really have any idea where he was going or what he was looking for. He headed northeast, one of the few directions they hadn't been, and hoped he would find something. Charon didn't want to leave her for too long, but he couldn't go home empty-handed either. _What would she like?_ Charon asked himself. He rolled the question around is his head, hoping something would come to him. The Wastes were lonely without Smoothskin and as he jogged he tried to imagine what song she'd be whistling. It was a miserable failure on his part. 

 

He hadn't gone very far when he stumbled upon an outcropping of tall buildings. It was so odd, seeing them so far from the heart of the Capital, that Charon decided to investigate. Pulling out his sniper rifle, he glanced down the scope and saw raiders. It was a medium-sized group, maybe ten. He ran through a quick practice of finding the ones he could and taking aim at their head. His breathing slowed. The first to die fell from a second story window, and after that it was an efficient massacre. They had no idea where the bullets were coming from, so they ran around like little ants trying to avoid the magnifying glass. However, there was no avoiding it. When Charon loped out from his hiding spot, he had a trail of gore to greet him. Charon smiled; he might be growing soft, but he still enjoyed killing. 

 

The buildings were much of the same: more raiders hidden in each of the buildings. It took more time than out in the open, mainly because it was direct combat instead of a slaughter. After he cleared a building, he carefully sorted through everything, hoping something would jump out at him. He grabbed useful things as well: food, ammo, meds, water - anything he thought would be helpful. They still had food at home, but giving so much of their supplies to the Evergreen Mills slaves had put a dent in their reserves. Without replacing them, a few more runs and they'd be out. 

 

It took him over twenty-four hours just to clear Bethesda Ruins, as he found out they were named. It had taken him another twelve to sort through all the junk. The only thing of real interest he'd found had been one of those bobble heads she collected, but Charon doubted that would be enough to snap her out of this depression. Charon was more tired than he thought he'd be. He sat down in one of the offices and tore open a pack of pilfered Potato Crisps and drank the irradiated water so common in the wastes. That was one good thing about being a ghoul: irradiated water didn't hurt you, it actually helped. The added benefit was that Smoothskin saved it all for him, which left her to drink the purified water that they had. Purified water, however, was hard to come by. 

Charon thought about James, her father.  He hadn't really listened when Dr. Li had talked, but from what his employer had told him, her father wanted to purify all the water in the Capital Wasteland. And she had chosen him over _that._ Maybe it wasn't too late, maybe he could talk to her about her decision. Charon was used to ghoul haters, and he knew Sarah would never forgive herself if her father failed. _Sarah._ Finishing off the chips, he set off again, this time due north. He needed to find something soon so he could get back home. He didn't like leaving her alone at all, much less for this long. He wondered if she missed him. _Jesus Christ, I'm getting weepy. Next thing you know, I'll be writing sappy love letters._

After maybe a mile or two, Charon stumbled on what looked like a junkyard. The fence was down in a couple places, so getting in was easy enough. He was glancing around for anything interesting when he heard a shot. Charon ducked down, before realizing no one was shooting at him. He quietly moved around the junked cars stacked on top of one another. He heard a woman laughing. He saw their backs. Raiders. Always goddamned raiders. 

"Give us your shit, old man," one of them called, taunting. He could see the man they were speaking to, but he assumed he was hiding behind the junk in the corner. They had him trapped. _Smoothskin would want me to save him,_ Charon thought. Honestly, Charon himself wanted to save him. He pulled out his rifle and quickly shot two of the raiders. The third made a mad dash towards the hidden old man. After a second or two, Charon heard the gurgled screaming of a throat being torn out. Charon ran to the aid of the hidden man, but it wasn't necessary. Upon rounding the corner, Charon saw the now-dead raider with a dog standing over him, its muzzle drenched in blood. 

"You the one that helped us out?" the man asked, picking through the raiders' pockets. 

"Yeah." 

"Well, thank ya. This is Dogmeat and my name's-" The man cut off suddenly and his eyes glazed over. When he fell, Charon could see a knife hilt poking out between his shoulder blades. Charon had missed a fourth raider. The guant man was now running away, _because stupidly he threw away his only weapon._ After a quick, grim search, the dog ending up finding the raider for Charon, when he growled at a particularly large pile of scrap metal. When Charon pulled the man out, he picked him up by the collar. The man was small and thin, like a scarecrow with half of the stuffing out. _The rest of his stuffing is about to be out,_ Charon laughed darkly. He threw the man down and pinned his left hand to the dirt with his combat knife. He held the man’s other arm down with one knee.

As Charon removed the man's eyes, the dog growled viciously, almost lost beneath the sound of the man's screams. Charon knew that this isn't what good people did, isn't what normal people did. But Charon had just seen a good person die, and he wanted compensation, from the raider, from the world, anything. It was all such shit, nothing was fair. He felt especially bad for the dog. He knew what it is like to do everything in your power to try to protect someone. He tried, once more, not to think about failing her. He tried to scrub the image of her glazed-over eyes out of his head, a knife poking out of her back. Charon decided to move on to the fingers, chopping them off bit by bit, like carrots going into a stew. Charon thought about finishing him off, but decided that right should go to the dog. He whistled and the dog ran up, its hairs bristling. He stepped away and let the dog circle the man, before tearing into him with a ferocity that surprised even Charon. After it was over, the dog went back to his master and nudged one lifeless arm, whimpering. He was loyal, and Charon could respect that. 

He searched around the junk yard until he found a shovel without a rotted handle. He began digging, the Wasteland quiet except for the sounds of metal striking earth, and the occasional mournful keen from Dogmeat. Once the hole was big enough, Charon drug the man, who’s name he never got to hear, into the hole and crossed his hands over his heart. It was something he vaguely remembered from a funeral he attended as a child. It felt wrong tossing dirt onto his face, so Charon grabbed a worn blanket and draped it over the man, shrouding him from the debri. Burying him took less time than digging the hole, but it was more exhausting. Charon shoved a wooden stick deep into the ground at the head of the grave, and as he was hammering it home, Dogmeat let out a howl. It traveled over the Wastelands, lonely and mourning. Charon could hear the loss that emanated from that one cry, and he wanted to cry too. Not from the death of a man that he didn’t know. He didn’t really know why. Maybe the horrible things that had happened to him. Maybe the horrible things that happened to everyone. 

The silence that followed, after the dog’s cry had echoed across the Wastes, was deafening. "Dogmeat," Charon called. The dog trotted slowly up to him, his ears back. Dogmeat whimpered.

"I know. You lost your master and you feel alone. It's okay," Charon said softly, patting the dog on the head. He left a smear of blood between his ears, not that it mattered. The dog's muzzle and chest were matted thickly with congealing blood. Dogmeat wagged his tail, looking paradoxical with the pleasant demeanor and ferocious exterior. At the attention, the dog rubbed up against Charon, struggling to get into his lap. Suddenly Charon remembered that night after their first time, back in River City, when he told her about Moose. She had mentioned wanting a dog.  Charon wished he was back in that room with her now.

"Dogmeat, would you like a new owner? It's not me, but it's a very nice person, and I'm sure she would be very happy. Would you like that?" The dog glanced back at the grave of his owner once, and Charon was completely convinced that this dog understood everything he said. After a second, Dogmeat turned back to Charon and barked once, wagging his tail. Charon took that for a yes. 

"Cmon then, let's go home." The dog ran in front of him, despite having no idea where they were going. Because of this, Dogmeat constantly had to change course based on how closely Charon followed behind him. He barked frequently, announcing their journey to the world. Charon laughed, the sound coming from deep in his stomach. They'd have to do some training work before he was ready for the field. He'd give their position away every time. But today Charon didn't mind. He had his present, and he was on his way to his home to his girl. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3 Sometimes Charon the sweetest, cutest ghoul alive. Other times he's carving out people's eyeballs. Balance right?


	32. Showering with Attention

Charon was amused to see her so excited. She seemed much more like herself. He had secretly hoped that he would receive some attention from her for the present, but sadly that was all being reserved for Dogmeat. The dog was loving every second of it, currently squeezed into Smoothskin’s lap, his eyes closed and his tail thumping against the floor. She was stroking his face, crooning at him about what a good dog he was, what a pretty dog he was, what a brave dog he was. Charon pursed his lips, more than slightly jealous. That is, until his employer looked up to him and gave him a soul-squeezing smile.

***

“Let’s go out,” Sarah said suddenly. She was tired of being in this house. She wanted to be around people, her friends, with Charon. “Let’s go to Gob’s. I’m sure they won’t mind…” She trailed off, looking down at the dog.

 “His name is Dogmeat,” Charon offered. Her nose wrinkled, displeased.

“Well, your name is your name. No use changing it now, eh Dogmeat?” The dog barked in response, which amused her. “Well, I’m sure they won’t mind Dogmeat. What do you say?”

***

When she looked at him with those doe eyes, Charon was hardly capable of telling her no, contract or not. He grunted in response. “At least let me clean up.” He was still covered in blood from the Yao Guai. He tossed the meat to her, but Dogmeat snatched it out of the air. The dog devoured it quickly, and Charon’s eyebrows furrowed together in irritation. The smoothskin giggled and Charon's displeasure dissipated.

“Dogmeat! No, no! Haha, were you hungry boy? Okay, well, no more of that. We’ll get you a bowl, but no more taking Charon’s food,” she gently scolded, and Dogmeat put his ears back. He approached Charon, and licked his hand once. He might as well have said, “I’m sorry.”

Charon patted his head, “It’s okay.” Smoothskin beamed at him and the dog jumped up, his big paws landing on Charon’s stomach. Dogmeat’s tongue desperately tried to reach Charon’s chin, falling well short of its goal. Sighing, Charon leaned down and the dog eagerly licked his face. Charon scrunched his face up, and he heard the Smoothskin burst into peals of laughter.

“Okay Dogmeat! I think you’re forgiven. Charon, go on and clean up. I’ll meet you at the bar. I need to shower too…” she admitted, tilting her head down and raising an arm to smell herself.

Charon went upstairs, grabbing a bar of soap and a change of clothes, before walking out of the house, to the shower near the armory. The men’s bathroom was empty, and Charon quickly stripped out of his clothes, turning on the water until it ran hot. He was glad he was alone there; he always came back later if someone was already in there. It had happened a few times, but was unavoidable when the only bathrooms were public use. Steam rose from the shower, and Charon gave silent thanks to Walter. It had been a long time since he had had a hot shower before coming to Megaton. He began washing his arms, working up to his chest. There was a thin curtain drawn around the shower, but he was so tall that his head poked well over the top, and when the door opened, he glanced in that direction. He was surprised when he saw the Smoothskin standing in the doorway.

“You are in the wrong bathroom,” Charon observed bluntly.

“Yeah. Dogmeat’s outside; we won’t be disturbed,” she said seductively. Smoothskin smiled wickedly as she slowly lifted her shirt off, leaving her in a faded pale pink bra. When she undid the fastenings, Charon swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. Her pants were next, and she slid them down slowly over her hips. She approached the edge of the shower, toying with the curtain.

“I wanted to say thank you for my present. I thought I’d help you wash up.” She glanced up at him. Charon pulled aside the curtain wordlessly, and she gingerly stepped inside. He let the curtain go, and it shrouded them. The yellow light gave her skin a dim glow, and he could see faded green bruises speckling her body. Charon wanted to kiss every one of them, but when he reached out to her, she smacked his hand away. “No,” she said firmly, before taking the soap out of his hand, lathering it between her fingers. She started on his chest, working down to his right arm, then to his left. She motioned with her finger and Charon turned around. He felt her hands scrubbing lightly on his back. It was like every itch he had was being washed away. When her fingers vanished, he turned back around, and the Smoothskin sunk to her knees, looking up at Charon with hungry eyes. He was already hard, but seeing her on her knees like that, so close, was enough to drive a man insane. When she began washing his thighs, Charon moaned, becoming more desperate-sounding the further away she moved. When she reached his feet he was desperate. 

When she was finished, she pushed him gently under the water, before beginning to lather up her own body. She started with her hair, letting the suds trickle down her back. Then she moved to her breasts, her fingers trailing over her skin, cupping them, kneading them together, all as Charon watched, transfixed. When she handed Charon the soap and turned around, Charon fumbled to wash her back, his fingers feeling numb and clumsy against her skin. He couldn’t think clearly. He couldn’t think at all. He handed the soap back to her, and she leaned down to wash her legs, giving Charon a beautiful view of everything… Charon pulled her back under the water, making her yip. 

“Enough,” Charon growled in her ear. She arched her back in response. Charon grabbed the flesh at the top of her hips, but that nagging doubt came rushing back. It always came back. When he paused, the Smoothskin mewled in need, looking back. “Are you-“ before he could finish, she thrust back, burying him into her. Charon leaned forward, pressing his chest into her back, letting the warm water cascade onto him. Her palms were pressed against the wall, and Charon began thrusting his hips.

“Ah, yes… oh, God. Charon,” Smoothskin cried out. The way she said his name made Charon’s cock twitch. “Fuck, yes. Fuck me harder.” _Well, I can’t refuse an order,_ Charon thought, smiling. His hips slammed into her, and her moans increased in volume. Distantly, he heard growling, but it was lost to the reality of him burying into her. He was so close. He reached up, grabbing a fistful of hair, exposing her neck. He leaned down, kissing, biting, and licked her neck. She shivered in response, her skin getting little goosebumps. Her back arched, and Charon came, slamming into her, the now-cold water raining down on his head. She quivered under him, her own waves of pleasure coursing through her. Her knees were shaking, and after Charon pulled out of her, scooped her up, carrying her out of the shower.

There was a wooden crate next to the shower, and he set her down on it. Grabbing the towel he had dropped into the sink, he dried her legs, then her body, finishing by gently patting her hair. It was more intimate for Charon than the sex they had just had. While he was drying himself, she dressed, slipping on fresh clothes. She then helped him dress, her fingers tracing over his skin, followed by his clothes. Charon could go again, but it was best to leave before someone came in. It would be imprudent for everyone to know their, situation…

Once they were fully dressed, she scooped up their clothes and he opened the door. He was startled to see multiple people standing outside, glancing between him and the growling dog. People glanced behind him, and their jaws dropped when they saw their Savior, her hair still wet and cheeks still flushed from their escapades. Charon knew without a second glance that they knew. They had heard them, and this just confirmed their suspicions.

“Dogmeat,” Charon heard her call from behind him, and the dog snapped to her side like elastic. It continued to watch the crowd, as if waiting for her to turn it loose. Charon was almost waiting for the same thing. The way they looked at him made his skin crawl. 

“It’s not right. Mixing with those things,” one man whispered loudly. Many others nodded in agreement. His face was upturned in disgust, and before Charon could move, Dogmeat had knocked him down, and Sarah's foot was on his throat. The entire group fell deathly quiet.

“Excuse me?” her voice was low and quiet, barely over a whisper, but it had a presence to it that made everyone in the crowd flinch. Her foot pressed down on the man’s throat, and he gasped, grabbing at her calf. She looked around the crowd. “Anyone else have anything to say?” As if to enunciate, Dogmeat snapped in their direction, his teeth bared, drool dripping from his lips. Charon was standing there, dumbly, unsure of what his place in this altercation was. 

The crowd shook their heads, and she released the foothold on the man’s throat, before kicking him once, right in the stomach. He grunted in pain, and Smoothskin spit onto the ground. “Fuck you,” she said venomously. Looking out at the crowd she repeated herself, “Fuck you too.” She began to walk away when she whipped back around, walking back to stand in front of the crowd. She was shorter than everyone there, but it was easy to see where the power was. Her fingernails were digging into her palms, forming tight fists.

  
“I’ve helped every fucking one of you. I risked my life for you. Who the fuck are you to say what I do with my personal time? Who the fuck are you? I give everything to this goddamn Wasteland and you can’t let me have this? I actually feel bad for you. Closeminded shits. Next time you need your ass pulled out of a paper bag don’t call me. Figure it out your fucking selves.” Her voice was shaking, and she stared down every single one of them as she screamed, pointing as she went. People from all over Megaton were looking up at them from the lower areas. Charon was standing awkwardly behind her, for once not looking intimidating at all. He was still kicking himself for being so stupid. Of course they could hear. Now everyone knew. She was a ghoulfucker, and nothing would ever change that. He had officially tainted her, and there was no coming back from that. 

***

When Sarah was satisfied that she had gotten her point across, she stomped away, dirty clothes still in hand, Dogmeat at her side. She felt, more than saw, Charon walking slowly behind her. She didn’t even go back to the house, instead going directly to the bar. She slipped in the back, dumping her clothes on the desk. _I’ll get them later._ She needed a drink. _Motherfuckers, piece of shit motherfuckers_. She glanced back at Charon. He had a brooding look, and Sarah knew he was upset at what had happened. Still in the back, she grabbed his hand, startling Charon out of his thoughts. He looked down at her and she kissed him, hard. He tried to push her away.

“No,” she said firmly, when he broke away, before crushing her mouth back to his. She drug him up to the front of the bar, still clutching his hand in hers. They sat at the bar, and Charon could feel the entire bar staring at both of them. Gob cautiously walked up, glancing at the two of them, his eyes settling on their hands clasped together, neatly sitting on the bartop.

“What can I get you two?” he asked, breaking his eyes away from their hands.

“Two whiskies, neat,” she answered for both of them. 

“You sure you should be drinking so soon?” Nova said, laughing, the sound drying up in her chest as she saw the two of them holding hands. It was surprise more than anything. It was such a public display. But Gob and Nova were too wise to say anything, and apparently so was anyone else. They drank slowly, and Sarah began a conversation with Gob about him brewing his own beer. Charon sat stiffly next to her, his fingers worrying her palm. It made her smile. She didn’t care if everyone knew; it was easier this way. But Charon did, and she knew that people were assholes. But she was going to put a stop to it in Megaton. She’d beat the fuck everyone here if she had too. Sarah was done with letting everyone else dictate her life. 


	33. Small Town Livin'

Gob had heard gossip before. Megaton wasn’t exactly a large place, and word got around about, well, everyone. Especially as a bartender, Gob heard just about everything from everyone. But this was different. Most of the time, he heard different gossip, from different people, on different days. The next day, however, the only thing anyone was talking about was Vaultie, and Charon. When people had heard the moaning coming from the men’s room, they had crowded around, waiting to catch the moonlit couple after their tryst. Apparently, Lawrence from the Commonhouse had tried to peak in, but that dog had scared the hell out of everyone. Gob and Nova had kept it briefly as a favor for Charon, to keep the dog a surprise before he gave it to her, and the dog had been fine, never once offering to so much as show a tooth. Gob had a hard time believing the stories they were telling about the beast, all snapping teeth and spittle tinged red. But the dog was the least interesting part of this story, for the people of Megaton at least.

When the ghoul companion of the Vaultie had opened the door, the curious bystanders had been surprised, but it was outright shock when their beloved Vaultie was seen standing behind him, still wet from the shower and flush from their obvious exertions. They had been expecting Jerico with some whore, or even one of the Stahl’s. Someone to tease and laugh about at the bar for the next week or so. But a ghoul and a human wasn’t funny. _It’s disgusting. It’s unnatural. Evil. What’s she thinking? What if he goes feral? Can he even…?_ Gob heard it all, whispers while he cleaned the bar, refilled drinks, and stood idly pretending to listen to the radio. A few said it directly to him, then, realizing who they were talking to, caveated with, “ _Well, of course, not you, Gob.”_ But he knew they meant him too.

Gob struggled with all his might to keep a straight face when he heard about Vaultie’s outburst, but he knew that he was smirking at the very least. She always had a fire to her, and her angry speech had spread from one corner of Megaton to the other. Sam from the Commonhouse had been the one stupid enough to say something, and Vaultie had nipped that in the bud quickly enough. Doc Church had fixed him up best he could, but broken ribs healed slowly, and after a few drinks Doc Church had spilled to Gob that he had charged him double. Doc Church was one of the few people in this town that didn’t seem to have a problem with this latest gossip, but that didn’t surprise Gob. The doctor had always been polite to Gob.

Church, Lucy West, and Moira made up the bulk of Vaultie’s support, outside of him and Nova, of course. Lucy thought that Vaultie walked on water after she helped her family, and that wasn’t going to stop “because of a little ghoul love.” Moira was odd, but her oddities made her open to just about anything. Sometimes Gob wondered if the merchant was human herself.

Well, them, and the Children of Atom, who were thrilled with this development. It was seen as the ultimate respect to Atom, a human and a ghoul being together. Still, Confessor Cromwell had been smart enough not to ask the two of them to preach the word of Atom, after seeing what happened to Sam. Everyone had steered clear of Vaultie after what happened to Sam.

More than a few worried about whether she meant what she said. Would she really not help them anymore? Manya needed a package delivered to Rivet City, but didn’t have the money to pay a caravan. Vaultie had always delivered for people before… Gob didn’t say it outright, but he knew Vaultie wasn’t one to say things she didn’t mean, and Manya had left, close to tears.

There were a few people that Gob hadn’t heard from, people who didn’t frequent his bar, Sheriff Simms and Walter to name a few. Gob imagined as long as Vaultie kept donating scrap metal she could screw a Yao Guai in Walter's bed and he wouldn’t care. The only reason they had hot water now was because Vaultie had donated so much scrap metal, and Walter had used it to build a makeshift boiler.

Gob sighed, putting his elbows on the counter. Nova scratched his back lightly. “Thinking about Vaultie?” He nodded.

“She’ll be fine, she always is. Besides, between her two loyal companions, who would dare mess with her?” Nova asked. The bar was empty, and Three Dog bellowed in the corner about, “fighting the good fight,” whatever that meant. “C’mon. Let’s go upstairs. I’ve been wanting to show you something.” Gob followed, not needing to be told twice.

***

Sarah was irked when she heard a knock on the door. Expecting an angry mob, she slung her shotgun over her shoulder, ready to fight. When all she saw was a little old woman, Sarah quickly lowered her weapon. Charon was on the stairs, warily watching. Dogmeat, sensing no danger, curled back up into the dogbed that Wadsworth had sewn. The robot was surprisingly adept at needlework.

“Oh, hello. I’m sorry to bother you,” the old woman said shakily. Her eyes were crinkled up, like Grandma Taylor’s. Despite her poor mood, Sarah smiled.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I know your name, but I’ve seen you around,” Sarah said politely.

“Oh deary, I wouldn’t expect you to know my name. It’s Dorothy,” the lady smiled, showing an empty-toothed smile. “I just came by to give you something. A congratulation present, as it were. Now I know I don’t look it now, but I used to be what the men called a looker. And this isn’t doing any good cooped up in the bottom of my suitcase,” Dorothy explained, as she unfolded the clothing she carried in her arms. It had buttercup yellow lace fitting the bodice, with a tiny ribbon of white silk tied just below the breast. The skirt was the same yellow, bunched at the top, giving it a ruffled appearance. Ruby red flowers delicately wove their way throughout the dress, tiny little vines and leaves making the dress seem alive. 

“No, no, no. I couldn’t. This is too much.” Sarah said, tearing her eyes away from the gown.

“Oh, lamb. I’m old. My mother told me when my great- great-grandparents married, they were ostracized for being together. People were cruel, but they didn't let it tear them apart. Once upon a time, blacks and whites didn’t mix you know. This is the world’s new racism. It’ll pass. In the meantime, enjoy your love. It’s a rare enough thing out here,” she said, smiling.

When the old woman left, Sarah glanced up to Charon, still on the stairs. She jiggled the dress in front of him, “Wanna see me try it on?”

“Only if I get to take it off of you,” Charon said seriously, but there was a sparkle in his eyes. Sarah knew this had been hard on him, and he had been reluctant to go out in public. They needed to get out of Megaton for a while. Surely there was something to do in the Wasteland.


	34. Kids Say the Darnedest Things

“Where are we going?” Charon finally asked. He had been wondering since they started packing, but she had been surprisingly mute about the whole endeavor. They had left quickly, while it was still dark. Dogmeat roamed in front of them, silent. Smoothskin had been working with him on his barking during their walk, and it had apparently proved effective.  
  
“Dunno,” she said, shrugging. They had left Megaton about three hours ago, and unlike their usual hurried pace, they were walking casually along the riverbank. The Super Mart had a few raiders, but the group was taken care of so easily Charon wondered how they had survived in the Wasteland this long. Past that, they had run into a woman in a shack named Grandma Sparkle. Charon wrinkled what was left of his nose in distaste. _What kind of name is Sparkle?_  Even worse - _Grandma Sparkle_. But Smoothskin had taken to her quickly enough. They started out trading, and Smoothskin came away with seven pounds of Mirelurk meat, wrapped up in ancient newspaper. Meanwhile, Dogmeat was having the time of his life jumping off the dock, making ever-increasingly large splashes in the water. Charon watched, amused, catching snippets of chatter about hunting Mirelurk and Yao Guai. Smoothskin told her about the one she had taken down a few days prior.  
  
“Wish I had a camera, could’ve taken a hunter’s pose,” she said, laughing. The old woman laughed with her, showing a row of rotted and missing teeth.  
  
“Anything interesting happening over this way?” Smoothskin asked after the conversation had died down a bit.  
  
Grandma Sparkle scratched her chin for a second. “Some fellas came by here a while ago that said they was lookin' for some dogooder that came from out of one of them Vaults. I told 'em I ain't seen nobody like that and set 'em on their way. They might still be around here though, if'n you think you can help 'em.”  
  
Charon tensed. There’d be only one dogooder Vault Dweller in the Capital Wasteland they could have meant, he knew.  
  
“How long ago did they stop by?” Smoothskin asked, her tone noticeably more serious.  
  
“Oh, if’n about two weeks ago I rek’n. They headed South on down the river. I told ‘em ‘bout them ‘Lurks, not that they paid me no mind,” Grandma Sparkle dithered on.  
  
“Well, we best be going. Nice meeting you!” Sarah exclaimed, slinging her pack back on. Charon followed suit, and as they walked away the lady waved.  
  
“Y'all come back now, y'hea'?”

***

Sarah didn’t know who had been asking about her, but she wasn’t happy. She had followed the directions of Grandma Sparkle, south along the river bank for a few minutes now, but so far they hadn’t come across anything, not even a Mirelurk. Sarah’s stomach rumbled for that fresh meat in her pack, but she knew it would have to wait a little while at least. They had wandered away from the bank, not that it truly mattered, and had just hit a place called “Greyditch.” It looked like a ghost town, though not many places looked any different in the Wastes.   
  
She was still thinking about a delicious Mirelurk Steak, when Dogmeat barked suddenly, his hackles raised, and a bedraggled kid ran up. He was thin, even by Wasteland standards, and looked like he hadn’t seen a shower in at least a month. She silenced Dogmeat with a quiet shush  
  
“Th-those monsters… They’re gonna get me,” the kid stammered out. He was visibly shaking and kept looking over his shoulder. Sarah raised two fingers and Charon immediately went into defense mode, his shotgun ready as he scanned the perimeter. Meanwhile, Sarah kneeled down to get on level with the boy. She had always liked children.  
  
“Hey now, calm down, kid. What happened?” Sarah asked calmly. As she spoke, she pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to the boy. He drank it quickly, before wiping his mouth with a tattered sleeve.  
  
“Those…THINGS. They just keep coming. I’m scared. Please make it stop,” the boy pleaded. His eyes were red and puffy, with large purple moons hanging underneath.   
  
“Hey look, I may not be big, but I’m pretty tough. And this guy,” she said, pointing her thumb to Charon, “is big _and_ tough. We can handle any monsters okay? So just calm down and tell me what happened.” As the kid began to talk, she gathered a few sticks and pulled out the newspaper she used as kindling. It took a little while, but eventually she had a nice fire going, and she threw four of the lumps of mirelurk meat on the flame, the shell protecting it from being burned. The entire time she listened to the boy, Bryan, talk about the giant ants, and how they started shooting fire; about his ‘pappa’, about this Doctor Lesko. She asked questions occasionally, mainly to keep him talking, until the food was nearly done and he looked talked out. Dogmeat had curled up next to the boy, and she noticed the child’s fingers dug into the dog’s fur. She cracked one of the shells and steam rolled out.  
  
“It’s hot, go slow,” Sarah said gently, handing the food to the boy. She tossed a cooled lump of meat to Dogmeat, who snatched it out of the air. Bryan laughed at the sight around a mouthful of food. Slow wasn’t possible for the boy, and by the time she had handed Charon his food, the boy was licking the empty shell. Stomach growling, she handed Bryan hers, and drew another lump of the meat out of her pack. Throwing it in the fire, she thought better of it and added three more, officially finishing off her recent purchase. They would have to go back to the wharf soon. Sarah could hunt her own, but honestly they were one of the few creatures that still gave her the heeby-jeebies. Besides, it would be supporting local businesses and whatnot.  
  
When the second round of meat was done, she passed Bryan his third, which he tore into with the same enthusiasm as the first two, and gave another to Charon. He looked like he was about to refuse, but a shove and pointed look was enough to shut him down. She settled into her own food, the steam making her eyes water in excitement. It was just as good as she thought it would be. It was tender and juicy, and Sarah sucked her fingers clean after she finished.  
  
Bryan was looking at his feet, the three empty Mirelurk shells cast by the wayside. “So, will you help? I can’t pay you… Thank you for the food. None of the others even did that,” the boy drifted off.  
  
“Others?” Sarah asked.  
  
“Yeah, I been askin’ people passing through for a few days now. Adults are mean though. Only think about themselves,” he said sadly.  
  
Sarah shook with anger. No one in this shithole will even stop to help a kid. Jesus Christ.  
  
“Yeah kid, we’ll help,” Sarah gritted out, forcing a smile. “Is there somewhere you can hide while we sort all this out?”  
  
“There’s a fallout shelter, but dad told me to stay away from it,” he mumbled hesitantly.  
  
“I’m sure in this case he’ll understand. Okay? Now go hide and don’t come out, I’ll come find you.” As the boy ran off, she had a second thought. “Wait, wait. Take this, and this, and this,” she punctuated each with an armful of stuff. There was food, and water, and even a comic book: Grognak, issue #14. She patted his head. “Go on now.” The boy grinned broadly at the horde of stuff, before scampering into the shelter. She followed behind, watching to make sure he got in there safely. 

As he got in the large metal tube Brian added, "Look for the house nearest to the billboard that's sticking out of the ground. It's pretty close to the diner, you can't miss it. That's where me and dad lived." Sarah nodded.

As the door closed, she saw his lip quiver. He was brave, but at the end of the day, he was just a kid.

"Dogmeat, stand guard," Sarah said firmly. The dog barked once before sitting directly beside the shelter. "Good boy, we'll be back soon."

  
As Charon and she walked deeper into Greyditch, she nudged into Charon purposefully, smiling. The corner of his lip twitched and he nudged her back. Getting out of Megaton had been a good idea.


	35. Now You See Them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, Sorry I kind of fell off the map. To be honest, my dad actually passed away and it's been really difficult to motivate myself to do anything. But I felt the urge to get back into this, so hopefully I can start posting more frequently now. On a bright note, I was accepted to Vet School, so I'll be attending in the fall. Thanks for all the patience, sorry for disappearing. As always, comments and criticism welcome. I didn't edit this chapter a TON, so I might go back later and fix some nitpicky stuff.

Sarah smelled the burning flesh before she opened the door. Brian had been right, the house hadn't been hard to find. The fire ants made it hard to get to, but not hard to find. The door was charred, and she nudged it open with her boot. Small fires smoldered randomly throughout the house, but Sarah focused on the charred body in the middle of the room. Brian's father. 

Charon crouched next to the body, then looked around the rest of the room. Four fire ant carcasses were sprawled out, their black eyes reflecting the flickering light of the fires. "Tough bastard for a Wastelander," he said casually and Sarah had no choice but to agree. He had a .32 still in his hand. Being a child in the Wasteland is bad enough, but an orphan... how was she gonna tell him? Despair must've been etched on her face, because next thing she knew a hand was on her shoulder, squeezing tightly. "There's nothing you could've done Smoothskin," Charon said quietly. Death was everywhere in the Wastes. When Sarah ran away from the Vault, she remembered thinking it has to get easier. 

"Come on," she said, slipping out from his touch. She left the house burning, another testament to the wastes. 

****

As they approached the Fallout Shelter, Charon could feel the tension build. Dogmeat wagged his tail at their approach. Glancing over, her back was straight and rigid, and when the door to the shelter slid open the kid jumped. He was sprawled out on the floor with a half eaten box of Junk Food and the magazine flipped open. He looked hopeful, and Charon felt pity for the boy. 

"Well, come on! Tell me already," the boy exclaimed, his eyes darting between the two of them. 

"Bryan," Smoothskin said softly, "I have some bad news." Her voice trailed off and she looked down at her feet. 

"What happened? Is it my dad?" The boy but his lip. 

"Bryan, I'm so sorry. He didn't make it." 

"He...he's dead? I guess I already knew. I'm too tired to cry anymore," the boy clenched his fists. His eyes were fierce and determined. "You have to stop this so it can't happen to anyone else. You HAVE to." Smoothskin glanced over at Charon for just a moment before nodding at the boy. He smiled at both of them. "I wish I'd met you a long time ago, then maybe my dad would be alive." Charon flinched slightly. He knew Smoothskin would take it in the worst way. 

"You stay here until we come back. Don't leave for anything," his smoothskin told the boy firmly. 

"Thanks for doing all this. I feel better just knowing you're here now," the kid said grabbing her hand. It was just for a second, before he let go and Smoothskin closed the metal door again. Dogmeat whined and she knelt down, patting him.  
  
"I know boy, but just a little while longer." The dog resumed his place at the door of the shelter, making his master smile proudly.

"Are you okay?" Charon said, his voice rasping. She nodded. His smoothskin always seemed so capable, sometimes it was easy to forget how fresh out of the vault she was. The Wasteland took time to harden people, more time than most people had. But Charon wasn't most people. 

***

Everywhere they looked was fire ants, corpses, and the smoldering wreckage of Greyditch. The only exception was a metal shack near the Wilkes' house. The door was locked l, but a few bobby pins later, the door jiggled open. Sarah was surprised then to find a relatively well equipped labratory. No fires, no damage, no even a scorch mark. 

Sarah flicked her hand and began searching the one room shack, while Charon did the same. She slipped a tape she found on the desk into her Pip-Boy. Some man with a nasally voice reminding himself of his password. Pretty stupid, Sarah thought. What's the point of having one if you leave it lying 5 feet from the computer. She pulled a chair up to the desktop and quickly typed in "formicidae." The scientific family name for ants... Sarah's stomach curled when she thought about all the lab equipment here. 

As she started reading everything that this Doctor Lesko had written, her jaw clenched in anger. His little science experiment had killed people. Those giant ass ants were already dangerous enough. He made them go and breathe goddamn fire. One of the final notes mentioned Marigold Station, which according to her Pip-Boy was only a half mile South. There wasn't much left in the lab worth taking, and they headed straight for the train station. Sarah glanced back at the Pulowski Shelter one last time before it disappeared from sight. She hoped he would be okay. 

Making their way to the station should've taken less than an hour, but with all the fire ants, nearly three hours had passed by the time they made it to the entrance. It didn't help that one of them had burned her arm and Charon had insisted on stopping to treat and bandage it. His hands felt cool and soft as they treated her, like worn leather. It was soothing against her burned skin.

"I'm sorry about Megaton," Sarah said quietly, focusing on his hands. She couldn't even look him in the eyes. 

"It's not your fault," he said firmly. With a bit more hesitation, he continued, "they're right though. Ghouls aren't supposed to be with humans." Part of him wanted her to agree with him, to end this charade, but a larger part wanted to take her then and there. It was a conflict inside himself, and he lost no matter who won. Sarah's foot traced his inner thigh and he groaned. "I can't focus when you do THAT." Charon stood up suddenly and adjusted his leathers. Sarah smirked, at least she knew his body wanted her. "Besides, we have a job to do." She sighed. He was right. Quickly they gathered their stuff and pressed on into the tunnels of the train station. 

***

These flame ants practically exploded when Charon fired his shotgun at them. It was almost entertaining in a way. He took aim at the last one, but before he could take the shot, the ant gave its version of a shriek and collapsed. When Charon approached the corpse, he saw Smoothskin's knife planted in its eye. He tugged it out, slime coating the blade. He handed it back to her gingerly. "I think this is yours."  

"Yeah, you looked like you were struggling. Thought I might help," she smirked. A heat spread up his chest and neck, settling on his face. That smirk. He imagined biting her neck, wiping that smirk off her face with his mouth. Those thoughts consumed his mind. We need to wrap this up, he wanted her back home. But when he thought of "home" his mood turned black. In Megaton everyone knew. Soon everyone in the Wasteland would know. They would know what'd he'd done to her. _Why didn't I have more control_ , he thought. He sneered at himself. _In what world could you have told her no?_

***

Charon seemed lost in his own thoughts, and Sarah let him be as they traveled down the railway. She figured he was still mulling about what had happened in Megaton. He had always seemed so sure of himself, so invincible, but when they had opened the bathroom door the only word to describe him was meek. It scared her, more than any other facet of Charon that she had seen. She had been careless, but it never really mattered to her whether or not people knew. Fuck them. But Charon cared, and it wasn't for himself.

 She glanced over at him, noting his furrowed eyebrows. She slowed her pace slightly, and Charon was so caught up in his thoughts he forged ahead, oblivious to the fact that she was slowly falling behind him. Quietly, Sarah climbed up on one of the old trains, crawling above him. It was almost catlike the way she moved, her eyes never leaving his back. Suddenly he stopped, tensing. Sarah smiled; he had realized she was gone. His knees bent, and he slowly turned. His gun was lowered, but his finger rested on the trigger, like it lived there.

“Smoothskin?” he whispered softly into the dark. Sarah crouched at the edge of the train, shifting her weight between her feet. As if fate, a rock fell somewhere down the line and Charon turned his back to her, checking the noise. Sarah pounced, leaping from the train onto Charon’s back. She assumed that she would knock him down from the force of her attack, but he just stumbled and few steps. His hands reached behind him, roughly dragging her in front of him, his fingers twisting around her throat. They squeezed tightly, and Sarah tried to pull in air and failed. He looked surprised, as if it took a second to recognize her face before he let her go. She stayed attached to him, smiling and laughing, though struggling to draw in air. 

“What the fuck?” he asked angrily, trying to pull her off of him. Sarah’s legs wrapped around his waist, locking her to him.

“I thought you might enjoy a surprise,” she teased. As if to put emphasis, she licked his neck. He shuddered under her.

“I could’ve KILLED you!” he shouted, his words echoing down the tunnels.

“But ‘cha didn’t.” she unwrapped her legs, and climbed up to crouch on his shoulders like a bird.

“That’s not the point,” he sputtered, still reaching for her. She leaned down, kissing him quickly on the lips before jumping off and landing in front of him. His jaw was working as he looked down at her. His eyes were pinched at the sides. His voice dropped, “I was worried about you.”

Sarah realized her mistake. “I-I’m sorry. You just looked so serious, so I thought it would lighten the mood. I didn’t mean to make it worse… I was just playing.” Sarah looked down. _Why do I always make things worse._

***           

As soon as she looked down and bit her lip, Charon’s anger faded away. She had been trying to make him laugh. He flicked her forehead, and she looked up like a startled rabbit. He smirked.

“Come on Houdini,” he said, chuckling a bit. “And stay in my sight or next time I will shoot you.”

You wouldn’t DARE,” she said indignantly, “and who’s Houdini?” Charon ignored her and started walking again. She trotted after him, a repeated barrage of questions trailing with her.

After 10 minutes of walking, she had finally worn him down. “He was a magician,” Charon said simply. Smoothskin looked at him like he was crazy. 

“I’m not an idiot, Charon. Magic isn’t real,” she said. They had stopped for a moment to check some boxes in a maintenance area. She was digging through a metal box, but she paused long enough to give him a patronized look. 

“Just because magic isn’t real doesn’t mean you can’t have magicians,” he replied vaguely.

“I really want to punch you right now, but as you can see I’m busy,” she said, not looking up from her pilfering. Her stash of found goods were piled haphazardly next to her.

“Do you want to see a magic trick?” Charon was almost as surprised as her when that came out of his mouth. Her eyes narrowed. “I need a bottle cap,” he continued. Her pile became ever more disorganized as she searched through it before pulling out a slightly rusted Nuka-Cola cap. Charon hadn’t done it in over a hundred years, but he had practiced so much before. His mother had clapped the first time he had showed her, yelling for an encore like she was in a packed stadium. He could almost hear her voice. _Nostalgia is one of the shittier emotions_ , Charon reminded himself, before refocusing on preforming the trick right.

 _It’s like riding a bike_ , he told himself. But then again, Charon wasn’t sure he could still ride a bike. He took the cap, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. Her eyes were glued to the cap. He covered the coin with his other hand. The second hand closed into a fist, before he bumped his two fists together and reached in her shirt pocket with the first hand, pulling out the cap. Her eyes narrowed, then widened, then narrowed again. He could practically see the wheels spinning in her mind.

“How did you do that?” she said cautiously, still staring at the cap.

“Magic,” he said mysteriously. His lips were barely tipped at the edges into a smile.

“Whatever happened to serious, stoic Charon that never talked or smiled or DID MAGIC?” she asked. “Talk to Ahzrukhal,” she added mockingly, her voice dropping to mimic his.

“You,” he responded seriously. Smoothskin’s face blushed, and she quickly shoved her loot into her bag.

 They hadn’t been walking long when Smoothskin slowed her pace. “We’re almost there,” she noted. As if on cue, the door in front of them opened to reveal a small, weasel-ish man with glasses slid halfway down his nose.

 “You startled me!” the man whined. His voice was a nasal wail. “You really mustn’t creep up on people like that,” he chided the both of them.

 “Excuse me, but what the hell are you doing down here?” Smoothskin asked him directly.

“You're trampling about in a delicately balanced and highly sensitive experimental area,” the man replied, avoiding the question.

“You’re Dr. Lesko.”

“Oh! You’ve seen my work?” the man squawked excitedly.

“Yeah, it’s been burned into my memory all over Greyditch,” Smoothskin sneered.

“Well, yes. They were some setbacks I suppose, but as the saying goes break a few eggs to make an omelette and so on and so forth,” the squirrelish man said, pushing up his glasses with his forefingers. Charon grabbed her shoulder before she could take a step forward, her fist clenched. “Since you’re here, maybe you can help me,” he continued, oblivious to how close he had been to being a smear on the wall. “My work with reducing the girth of these insectoid creatures by way of a pre-birth induced mutagen, not that I expect you to understand any of that, has taken a unexpected turn. Instead of lowering their size, they developed a new biomechanism. I call it pyrosis,” Dr. Lesko chuckled almost fondly. Charon was repulsed. “Anyways, just a minor error that can be fixed-“

“A minor error? People DIED Dr. Lesko,” Smoothskin exploded, pointing at him. He seemed to really look at her for the first time.

“A small price to pay for the advancement of science,” he replied, giving no indication that their deaths had effected him at all. “Like I was saying before I was rudely interrupted,” Charon could feel her shaking with anger, “My portable terminal is set up in the Hatchery Chamber near the Ant Queen. If I can reach it, I can continue to work on improving the mutagen as well as destroy the pyrosis ants. Once I send the Inhibitor Pulse from my terminal, all of the remaining ants will lose their empathic link with the Queen and frenzy, destroying each other in the process!”

“But let me guess, it’s too dangerous for little old you, so you want us to go down there and kill what ever dangerous fucks are lurking down there that YOU created so you don’t break a nail. That sound about right?” Smoothskin growled at the man and he paled at her intense gaze.

“Well yes, almost. Only the Nest Guardians must be killed. The Queen must remain alive or months of my research will be lost!” he said frantically, some spittle forming at the corners of his mouth. She turned and started to walk away through Lesko’s lab. Lesko trailed after her, “If it’s incentive you need I can offer one of my Mutagenic Bioenhancers it’s really quite marvel-“ before he could finish Smoothskin had slapped her hand over his mouth.

“Shut. Up. I’m not doing this for you, or your precious research. I’m doing this for Brian and everyone else up there that you royally fucked over. Stay up here. Don’t say another word. Nod your head if you understand,” the doctor nodded meekly. Removing her hand from his face, she wiped it on the back of her pants before grabbing a Nuka-Cola off of the desk and walking further into the lab, towards what Charon assumed was the hatchery. He followed behind, giving the doctor a guarded look before disappearing through the door. 

 

 


	36. Walden's Myrmidons

“Piece of shit.” Sarah mumbled mainly to herself as she climbed down into the hatchery. “Self-righteous mother fucker thinks he can do whatever.” The rocks dug into her palms, but she barely noticed. She was distracted, and she took her time climbing down, not even noticing Charon patiently waiting for her by the door. When she finished making her way down, Charon nudged her with his elbow.

“Focus,” he said nodding her forward. She took a deep breath before pushing everything out of her mind. Brian, Dr. Lesko, even the people of Megaton flowed out of her thoughts like leaves in the water. As Charon pushed open the door, she edged into the cavern, keeping her back against the wall. Charon followed behind, flanking her position. They made their way down the corridor. Sarah could see the red dots on her Pip-Boy milling around in the next room. What had he called them? Nest Guardians? She flicked two fingers to the east and Charon split off, quietly circling around the room. At the same time, both of them took shots at the two Nest Guardians. She had no idea if Charon had killed his, but her shot had only angered it. The ant focused its black, empty eyes on her before opening its mouth and unleashing a torrent of flames. The heat licked her face, scorching the air she tried to breathe in. Her eyes watered, and she blindly shot in the direction of the flames, hoping to hit the mutant creature. When the flames subsided, she sighed in relief. Charon was next to her instantly, and she knew he was checking her for damage. It pissed her off in a way. 

“I’m fine,” she coughed, her voice not conveying the anger she felt. Charon looked at her worriedly for another moment, before she pushed past him, deeper into the cave. He went to grab her, but she pressed a button on her wrist and disappeared beneath his hand. She grinned when Charon blinked, surprised. He looked around for a moment before pursing his lips.

“A Stealth Boy, really?” he called out, looking around. When she laughed, he tried to locate her, but the sound echoed off of the cave’s walls.

 

*** 

“Catch me if you can,” she laughed. Charon could hear her footsteps pounding down further into the cave. He swore and chased after her. On his way, he had to jump over the body of another one of the Nest Guardians. _Three down, two to go._

When Charon came to a fork in the cave, he quickly chose left, hoping she had done the same. Another fire ant body confirmed his choice. “Smoothskin,” he whispered. He kept moving forward, until he saw a fire ant moving towards him. _Last one._ When he fired, he wasn’t prepared for the definitively human scream that followed. The ant barely slowed, but he couldn’t fire again-. _Where is she?!_ Without any other option, he ran forward, trying to sink his knife into its skull. Before his blow could land, the ant’s mandible clamped down on his other arm. With a snarl, Charon drove his knife into the top of the ant’s skull, but even dead, Charon struggled to pry open its mouth. Cradling his arm, he looked wildly around. His fingers felt wet and warm, but he didn’t feel any pain as he desperately looked for his Smoothskin.

“Smoothskin,” he called out distraughtly **.** He saw the wavering of light at the same time her heard her moan. By the time he was at her side, the Stealth Boy had worn off. She was crumpled on the ground, her hand pressing hard onto her lower leg as blood seeped around her fingers. The nausea was rising up from his stomach, just as rapidly as he was trying to push it down. _I didn’t mean to..._ he repeated rapidly to himself. 

“I-I thought you were joking about the shooting me part,” she laughed, but it was high and unnatural. There was sweat forming on her upper lip, and even when she laughed her face was drawn and tense. “What, did you shoot yourself as punishment?” she asked, nodding to his arm. “I have dishonored my employer,” she growled, trying to imitate him.

“Shut up,” he ground out, dropping his bag on the ground between them. Surprisingly she was quiet, although that might have been from the pain. He dug through until he pulled out the bag of Stimpaks and bandages. It would take nearly all of them to heal her leg, so, before she could resist, he began sticking her leg as quickly as possible.

By the time she realized how many he had used, they were down to their last five. The bleeding had completely stopped, and Charon made a mental note to keep more of these on hand at all times. _Next time she could be hurt worse and we wouldn’t have enough._

“Hey, hey! What about your arm? Enough, Charon!” she chided, pulling her leg away. A look of surprise crossed her face. “My leg doesn’t hurt at all!”

“That’s the miracle of Stimpaks. If you’re feeling better, mind helping me with this?” Charon asked, holding up his arm. Delicately, she held his arm and removed his bracer. It had protected him from most of it, but it was useless now, and she threw it off to the side like garbage. She sighed. “You should’ve saved more Stimpaks for yourself, you know.” Charon shrugged.

***

Even after five Stimpaks, his arm was still raw with one deep puncture wound that hadn’t healed like the others. Sarah had scolded him like a child the entire time that she bandaged it, and when he went to grab his shotgun she whisked it away from him.

“No!” she said firmly. “You’re on the backburner until we get you home to see Doc. That’s an order.” She hated using that against him, but she knew that was the only was he would listen. He refused to acknowledge her, but the way his jaw clenched and unclenched, she knew he had heard her. “Now, you wait here. I have a Ant Queen to kill.” He looked at her then, his eyes begging her not to, but she slung her bag over her shoulder and left him there.

Now that the Nest Guardians were dead, Sarah knew she could kill the Queen from a distance and it would be defenseless. Then it would be simple to access the computer and kill the rest of these abominations. As she set up her sniper rifle, she thought about Dr. Lesko. He would be angry that she had killed the queen, but honestly she didn’t give a fuck. That thing needed to die before it made more of these monsters, whether or not that “scientist” was convinced he could fix them. Sarah had a more permanent solution that was less likely to result in orphans.

The map she had of the chamber was surprisingly good, and when she glanced around the corner, she could clearly see the ant queen crawling around the large cavern. It was too big to get out the door, so Sarah figured she could stay outside the room and take pot shots until the thing was dead, never risking herself by engaging it directly. She aimed, slowing her breathing before gently squeezing the trigger. The Queen turned its body, surprisingly quickly for being that large, and Sarah ducked behind a rock just in time to see a large pile of green goo hurdle into the wall behind her.

 _Of course it flings acidic goop,_ she thought as she watched the slime eat through the rock face. Just then, the Queen turned away, distracted by something, Sarah began firing quickly at the beast: abdomen, thorax, head, whatever she could see. Sarah figured out a Protectron, Dr. Lesko’s no doubt, had perceived the ant as a threat. _Of course its okay to kill the Queen if HIS life is in danger._ With the queen’s focus on the robot, it was easy to kill it from a distance, and when the ant gave a twitch and fell, Sarah gave a smile of success. She approached, still cautious, but when it didn’t move she checked the room, destroying any nests she saw. On her way out she noticed a book and a Nuka Cola Quantum sitting on the desk, which she quickly swept into her bag. After hacking into his computer, she activated the Inhibitor Pulse, she gave a quick scan through the other files in his computer. She grinned when she saw the Destroy Mutagen sequence, and without hesitation initiated the protocol. After that, it was easy following her map back to Charon.

 _“_ See? Easy peeasy,” she grinned when he noticed her approach. His back was against the wall and his arm was resting on his knee.

“Stupid is what it was,” he said sullenly.

“Hey, I’m fine.” She did a complete circle to show him all sides. “You worry too much.”

“And you don’t worry enough!” he yelled angrily, his voice echoing down the chambers. “Let’s just go,” he said flatly, grabbing his pack with his good arm. “That is, if I can?” he said with an accusatory tone. Sarah tilted her head as if permission, and he walked past her. The rest of the trip out was in silence, save for the gentle drip of water leaking into the cave.


	37. Could of, Would of, Should of

“You did WHAT?!?! I specifically said that any damage caused to the queen would be detrimental to my research! You’ve cost me months of work! Are you happy with yourself?” Dr. Lesko screamed as he waved his arms wildly. His hair had fallen over his face, completing the crazy professor look. 

“Yeah, kinda,” Sarah smirked, and the doctor took one aggressive step towards her, but a glance at Charon, hurt arm or not, made him pause. 

“You’ve done your damage, now leave. Leave me and my research in peace,” the disheveled man told her, motioning towards the door. 

“Not so fast,” she grinned, “I was promised a Bioenhancer. I’d like my payment please.”  

“You didn't honor the agreement, so our bargain is null and void. Good day,” he said turning away from him. 

“Charon,” Sarah said quietly. He had been leaning against a wall, cradling his arm. But with her word, he pulled his shotgun from behind his back with his left arm. Sarah had a momentary surge of pride well in her chest. He held his gun level and steady with one arm, a hard enough feat on its own, but with it in his left hand he was an impressive sight. The doctor eyed Charon, before squaring up to Sarah. 

“You won’t kill me. I’m not afraid of you.” Sarah glanced to Charon. He aimed at the lab bench and fired once. The sound of shattering glass and sparking of electronics filled the room. Dr. Lesko ducked out of instinct, kneeling in front of Sarah. She looked down on him with disgust. 

“My payment.” 

“Okay, okay. Just call him off. My research… My lab... Please?” he looked up at her begging and she nodded to Charon. He relaxed immediately and returned to his original position of leaning against the wall. 

Sarah sat on the chair near her and waited patiently. The doctor returned shortly with two vials, each containing a dark green fluid.  

“Strength or sight?” the doctor asked curtly. 

“What?” she asked, confused. 

“I can go into the specifics of this entire thing, but honestly my patience and energy is wearing very thin. So, you can have more strength or better sight. Pick one,” Dr. Lesko said wearily. 

“Charon…” she glanced over at him, asking for his opinion. He smiled slightly, though if she didn’t know him she would’ve mistaken it for a grimace. 

“You’re a good enough shot as it is. Strength so maybe you can beat me at training. Still probably won’t, though.” She shot him a look, but he pretended not to see it. 

“Strength, I guess,” she said uncertainly. Dr. Lesko loaded one of the green vials into a injection gun and Sarah held out her arm. He reached up to hold her arm, but before he could inject the serum, a large hand grabbed his arm. Dr. Lesko and Sarah both followed it up to Charon in surprise. 

“If anything happens to her, you will see your own organs, in detail. Understand?” The doctor’s eyes grew large, and he nodded in an exaggerated fashion, like a child. The needle stick that followed was painful, and she could feel the warm liquid flow into her muscles. When it was finished, Sarah flexed her muscles. She felt good, though not overly different than before. Checking her Pip-Boy, she noticed that her carrying limit and Health had both increased a fair amount. 

“One side effect of the mutagen is increased fire resistance. Don’t go jumping into burning buildings, but it will be harder to burn your skin. Now please, can you just go?”  

Sarah slung her pack over her shoulder, and left without another word. Charon followed on her heels. He needed a doctor, but they needed to take care of Brian first. She sighed. 

*** 

Dogmeat was still dutifully standing guard, although he couldn't help but run up to meet them when he saw them approach. The Preservation Shelter Door was closed, and a quick knock from Smoothskin was met with a fearful, “Who’s there?” When the boy heard her voice however, the door slid open and he launched himself into her arms. 

“I thought you might not come back,” he said, wrapping around her neck.  

“The Fire Ants are gone and never coming back,” she said gently. After peeling the boy off of her she continued. “Now, I can’t leave you here alone. Do you have any other family? Any ideas of somewhere you can stay?” 

“Well, Pappa always told me about a cousin that lived on a big boat. Her name was Vera. I think it was called Rivet City, but I don’t know where that is.” 

“Well, its your lucky day. I know where Rivet City is and I know Vera. Let me go talk to her and then I’ll bring you there, okay?” 

“Okay. I have to get my stuff ready, and…” the boy glanced at his old house, “I gotta bury Pappa.” Charon felt bad for the kid. The Wasteland was hard, and no one got out unscathed.  

“Okay. We’ll be back soon. Stay safe, Brian,” Smoothskin lectured, patting him on the head. They watched as the boy ran to his old house and disappeared inside. 

Once they had left Greyditch, Smoothskin nudged Charon. “Are we okay?” 

 Charon sighed. “Yeah. You can’t just run off like that. I could’ve killed you. I could’ve-“ he trailed off at the end. 

“I’m sorry.” She looked at him hard. ”I was wrong.”

“Next time we train you're going to remember how wrong you were,” he grinned. 

“Hey, I’m not the one that needs a doctor,” she teased back. He responded by bumping her with his hip, which sent her crashing to the ground, with her pack landing on top of her. Dogmeat proceeded to jump around her face, licking incessantly. Charon laughed loudly, the sound traveling down the old city ruins as she struggled to get up. Her face was red when she finally stood, but he had already walked ahead towards Rivet City. She had no choice but to run after him yelling, “Hey. Hey. Hey asshole!” 

He loved her more in that moment. She was made him feel things he hadn’t felt in 200 years; even things he had never felt before. Everyday he loved her more and more, and a dark part of him whispered, _It can’t last._ But he pushed it down like always and turned to the real girl beside him, smiling. She stuck her tongue out at him and ran ahead. He was content to follow her anywhere.


	38. Sunrise, Sunset

They had made the trip to Rivet City above ground. It was still mostly cleared out from their travels through last time, although the occasional raider popped up. Sarah had insisted on taking charge most of the trip, making sure that Charon used his arm as little as possible. Dogmeat was a surprising asset, although his occasional barking drew more attention than was wanted. It hadn’t taken them long at all for them to get to the city, and they reached the bridge just as the sun touched the horizon. Sarah gave a few more bottles of water to the man sitting on the bridge as they passed. He looked too pitiful to just ignore. Harken or whatever his name was didn’t give them any trouble this time on entry to Rivet City. Dogmeat seemed terrified of the bridge, long metal ramp to the boat, so Sarah set him to wait on the bridge for them to return. The dog whimpered, but obeyed. _We won’t be long,_ Sarah thoughtas she walked over the ramp. 

Sarah knew that they needed to get Charon’s arm treated, so when they arrived at the clinic in the ship’s hull she handed him a bag of caps.

“You get your arm looked at. I’m going to go ahead and talk to Vera. I’ll be back soon,” she said, already glancing in the direction of the hotel. 

“It’s really not necessary. My arm has almost healed,” Charon said, showing her his arm. It was scabbed over, but Sarah wanted to be sure.

“Go,” she said firmly, before turning and walking away. The Hotel was only one door down, and when she entered she found Vera sweeping in the corner. The Hotel was clean as could be expected on a old ship, and Sarah could tell from the way it looked that the woman took pride in what she did. She only hoped the woman would be willing to take Brian in.

“Excuse me,” Sarah said lightly. When the woman turned around, Sarah was surprised at how pretty she was. Her blonde hair was cropped short, and her features were delicate with high cheekbones and full lips. 

“Charmed to meet you. I am Vera Weatherly of the Weatherly Hotel. Would you like to rent a room?” the woman beamed.

“Oh no, no thank you. Actually, I’m here about your nephew Brian. I’m sorry but your brother has been killed. Brian doesn’t have anywhere else to live. I was wondering if you would take him in?” Sarah got state to the point because she wasn’t sure how else to handle this sort of situation. She shifted her weight nervously.

"Oh. Oh my. I told him it wasn't safe out in the Wastes. But he always hated Rivet City. He was so willful..." the woman trailed off, lost in her own thoughts. Sarah felt for the woman. She knew what it was like to disagree with family's choices.

"I'm sorry for your loss, but Brian," Sarah said awkwardly. Vera had to take him in. She wasn't sure where else to take him. 

“Oh, yes. Poor dear. I know what it's like to be alone. I'd love to take him in. You send him on, and don't worry, I have the means to keep him fed and healthy but most importantly, safe,” the woman said with a small smile. She seemed happy to take him in, even though Sarah could see the death of her brother weighed heavily on her. Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t sure what she would’ve done if Vera had said no.

“Great! That’s great! He be ecstatic when I tell him!” Sarah exclaimed. The two woman said their goodbyes and Sarah left the hotel, whistling.

***

Charon knew when she got to the clinic, she wouldn’t be happy. Charon stood outside, waiting for her, bag of caps still in hand. 

“I didn’t figure you’d be done so quickly,” his Smoothskin said inquisitively, before her eyes settled on the bag of caps still in his hand. “He didn’t, turn you away, did he?” she asked, a trace of anger in her voice.

“It wasn’t his fault. He was going to treat me, but his other patients weren’t comfortable with me being there. Or their doctor treating me for that matter. I left before matters became elevated. Besides, like I said, my arm is almost healed,” Charon explained levelly. He was used to this. He wasn’t always employed by ghouls, and mingling with smoothskins meant people were untrusting of you most of the time. It obviously did not mean very much to her, as he had to physically stop her from marching into the clinic, most likely to give everyone there a verbal beating. “Please, just let it go,” he said quietly. Charon seemed to reach her then, and her shoulders slumped.

“If that’s what you want,” she conceded. Charon stroked her shoulder with his thumb.

“I promise I’ll make it. I have a job to do remember?” he teased, hoping to lighten her mood. She didn't smile. 

“If you say so. Leave get the hell off this rickety boat,” she said, heading for the door. Charon didn’t want to stay any longer than her, and they left as quickly as they came.

They picked up Dogmeat on their way out. He was happy to be with them again, and he bounded between the two of them unsure who he wanted to give attention to first, which made them laugh. The moon was a sliver, casting more shadows over the already eerie Wasteland. The path back to Greyditch was a breeze, with nothing around but a large raven that flew away at their approach.

It was still dark when they entered Greyditch. All of the fires the ants had started had burned out, leaving this place a hollow shell. Ant bodies littered the streets, draped across cars and out of windows. It was good they were removing the boy from here.

“I don’t want to wake up Brian. We’ll camp here and tell him in the morning. Is that okay?” she asked, slowing her pace. He nodded, but then realized she couldn’t see him in the dark. 

“Yeah. I think there’s an abandoned house around here. Although I guess now they’re all abandoned,” he reasoned.

“I’ll let you lead the way then, Mr. Navigator,” she said. Her mood had gotten lighter the further they got from Rivet City, and she seemed back to her old self. The house was as advertised, abandoned, and a healthy layer of dust coated everything. None of this seemed to bother Dogmeat, who set his nose to the ground and began smelling anything and everything he could reach.

“Upstairs is a bedroom. I will stay down here and keep watch,” Charon said. There was an overturned couch in the corner, and Charon flipped it over, righting it, before sitting down. A small cloud of dust flew up when he sat, and he sneezed.

“That doesn’t sound very fun,” she said, moving her hips sensually. He rolled his eyes. “Come on Charon, we’ll be fine for one night. All the ants are gone.” Against his better judgement, he followed her upstairs. The bedroom was just as filthy as downstairs, but the bed looked sturdy, and Smoothskin plopped down on the mattress, her arms outstretched. She patted the space next to her, and Charon dropped his gear before climbing next to her. She snuggled into him, in that place she fit so well. Charon hadn’t intended on sleeping, but soon he was drifting off with her.

 Charon woke up when a cold piece of metal touched his neck. Glancing up, he could see the shadow of a man staring down at him, with his finger touching his lips. Charon nudged his Smoothskin awake, and when she lifted her head, another man stepped out of the shadows, dragging her off the bed. Even in the dark, Charon could see the glint of a knife pressed against her ribs.  

“Don’t touch her!” Charon snarled, pressing into the knife. He felt it dig into his neck, but didn’t care. 

“Oh, I plan on doing plenty of touching,” the faceless shadow laughed. Charon pressed against the blade at his neck again, and he felt something warm and wet slide down his neck. At that moment, a growl filled the room, Charon couldn’t see where it was coming from, but he knew what it was. The man holding her quickly looked around the room, but it was shrouded in darkness. “What is that? I’ll kill her, I swear!” he said nervously, still trying to see where the noise was coming from. The room went quiet, and the tension grew. Suddenly, Charon heard the wet crunch on bone, and the man screamed, dropping the knife. He fell to the ground, clutching his leg, while Dogmeat gnawed. Charon took that moment to grab the nearest man’s wrist, yanking it away from his neck and pulling him foward,h pinning him to the bed with his knees. Dogmeat was still attacking the man at the foot of the bed, each bite resulted in another shriek.  Smoothskin turned on her Pip-Boy light to reveal the two men, wearing Talon Company Armor. _Goddamn mercs._ He looked at her for permission, and when it was given he slit the throat of the man beneath him.

“Dogmeat,” she said quietly, and the dog released his hold on the man’s leg. It was a mangled mess of flesh below the knee, and the white of bone shone through, gleaming in the light. Without another word, she got dressed, and gathered her stuff. Charon must’ve looked confused as she began to walk out of the room, because without looking back she said, “Leave him. I give him a few days with that leg.” Charon had slept in his armor, and so he grabbed his pack and followed her out, the dog on their heels.

When they hit the stairs the man started screaming, “You can’t leave me here like this! Just kill me! Kill me!” He was still screaming when they left the house, but it had devolved into incoherent babbling by that point. Some people might’ve thought it cruel, but to Charon it felt like justice. It was still dark, but when she went directly to the boy’s house, he stood outside while she went in, to make sure no other mercs decided to try their luck. When she exited with the boy, he was still sleepy, but it was quickly fading in the face of excitement.

“Do you think you can follow the directions I gave you? We just went through so there shouldn’t be any danger, but if you do see anything, anything at all what are you going to do?” she quizzed the boy. 

“Find a hiding spot and stay quiet until they’re gone. Like I said, I’m the best at hide and seek. No one will find me I promise,” the boy said firmly, extending his pinky finger. Smoothskin took it and shook once, before letting go and patting the boy on the head gently.

“We’ll visit you soon, okay? Be good for your aunt.” Brian nodded, and gave one pat to Dogmeat before turning to Charon.

“Thank you for helping too,” he said shyly, not looking up from his feet. The boy extended his hand to Charon and he took it, shaking it once. The boy’s hand was soft and small, barely fitting into his own. Charon was shocked. He couldn’t remember a child ever looking at him with anything but fear, but this one shook his hand. It made him feel warm, _pride maybe?_ He wasn’t sure, but he was happy to see the boy scamper off in the direction of Rivet City, a pack of goods given by Smoothskin slung over his shoulder. When he glanced back to her, she was smiling knowingly. The sun had just begun to rise, casting a warm glow over the Wastelands. Despite what had happened with the Talon Company, the Wastes didn’t seem like such a bad place right now. It actually felt pretty good.


	39. Another Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know I'm terrible, for taking so long to update, but I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Sarah felt good watching Brian leave towards his new home. It seemed right, like an ending written out of a book. The Wasteland didn’t get many of those. She glanced over and saw Charon leaning against a burned-out car. He looked at her nonchalantly and she grinned back. 

"Somebody made a friend," she chimed in a sing-song voice. Walking over, she poked him lightly and grinned even larger, which earned her a scowl in response. "Come on - it was nice, wasn't it? You liked him," she said smirking. 

"He was a good kid," he responded with a hint of a smile. "I am glad you found him a home." He ruffed her hair, then pushed off the car while Sarah re-tucked it behind her ear. "So where are we going now? Home?" 

"Underworld. I want you looked at, and Doctor Barrows will know ghoul anatomy better than anyone else, and best of all, he'll actually treat you," Sarah said bitterly. Charon sighed. 

"I told you I was fine. My arm is almost healed," he said showing her. It was still raw and puckered. 

"Your neck," she said flatly, placing her hands on her hips. 

"Smoothskin..." he started. 

She interrupted, "You know what? Fine. You don't have to go. But next time I need a doctor, I don’t want to hear a single word. Deal?" She extended her hand firmly to shake on it. 

"Alright, alright. We'll go to the doctor. But don't blame me when they kick me out for being too healthy," he teased. They both laughed, the sound echoing down the streets of used-to-be Greyditch. Sarah guessed it still was, _but what's in a name if no one lives there?_ They shouldered their bags and began walking back towards the city, with Dogmeat trotting alongside them. 

*** 

The trip had been relatively boring, with a few Raider and Mirelurk exceptions. It had still taken them most of the day to travel to the Mall through the subways. When the Smoothskin saw Willow, Underworld's guard, she jogged up to greet her.  

"Hey, remember me?" she said grinning. 

"It's hard to forget someone who made such a large impact," Willow rasped. She sounded like an old woman with a smoker's cough, but Charon reckoned he didn't sound much better. She glanced at him and smirked. "You made a pretty big impact yourself. Mostly on Ahzrukhal, but still." Charon saw his employer wince at the mention of Ahzrukhal. 

Charon scowled down at Willow. “Are we still welcome or is there going to be a problem?” 

Willow threw up her hands, showing her palms. “No problem. It’s not like Ahzrukhal didn’t have it coming. And it’s not like he had any friends. We’re good. Just, no more blowing people away, okay? Once I can forgive, twice and all of Underworld’s up my ass.” Charon nodded and noticed Smoothskin off to the side chewing her lip nervously. 

"Well, we best be going on it. Enjoy the rest of your patrol," she said hurriedly, quickly moving towards the door. 

Before Charon could follow, Willow smirked at him and said in a low voice, “Someone will be happy to see you.” Before he could reply, she turned and continued on her patrol, like he wasn’t even there. 

Charon knew who she was talking about. It’s not like, in a community as small as Underworld, shit didn’t get around. It seemed like a lifetime ago, although to a ghoul a lifetime ago could be taken quite literally. 

He caught up to Smoothskin easily, just as she opened the door. It felt different coming back. Hell, he was different. If it wasn't for her, he would've stayed in the Ninth Circle until he was as dusty and old as the fossils. 

"Okay, I figured the Chop Shop and Tulip’s, then we get the hell out of Dodge. Sound good?" she asked when they reached the door to the Underworld. He nodded. He didn’t want to run into Greta. 

*** 

As soon as they opened the door, everyone was looking their way. Sarah knew smoothskins were a rarity here, but no one was looking at her. A pang squeezed Sarah’s heart. Even with the people he was supposed to belong with Charon was an outcast, a novelty. Even though she couldn’t make out the words, she could hear the humming of whispers and gossip. She grabbed Charon by the elbow and half-dragged him through Underworld, until they were in the Chop Shop and the buzzing was closed with the door behind them. She had Dogmeat wait outside, to discourage any nosey ghouls. _The nurse, Nurse…_ Sarah couldn’t remember, but she knew it was something morbid, smiled at them.  

“Need fixing up again, Smoothskin?” It felt weird having people other than Charon calling her that. It felt too personal. 

“Not me, him,” Sarah said, nodding towards Charon. The nurse pointed towards an empty bed. The room was completely empty, and just as Sarah was wondering where Doc Barrows was, she saw him in the room with the feral ghouls. She watched him through the window, but couldn’t tell exactly what he was doing. The ghouls ignored him completely, barely even looking in his direction. When he finished, Doc Barrows exited the room, locking the door behind him. He seemed mildly surprised to see them. 

“Smoothskin. Charon,” he looked between the two of them, then focused on Charon’s neck. “Yeah, it needs some work, but I’ve seen worse. 75 caps.” Charon scoffed, but Sarah silenced him with a look and handed Barrows the caps. “This will take a while. I’d tell you to go over to the Ninth Circle, but I guess Carol’s place is it now,” he smiled, the remnants of his lips curling back over his yellow teeth. It was eerie how his eyes pierced into Sarah. 

“Meet me when you’re done,” she told Charon, before leaving. She must’ve been fucked up last time she was in there; she didn’t remember the doctor being so unnerving. She still felt eyes on her, but she tried to ignore it as best she could. She called Dogmeat to her and they walked together to Carol’s.

*** 

Charon rubbed his neck. Where a jagged scab had been, there was now pink wrinkled flesh. Doc Barrows knew ghouls and how to fix them up better than Charon had even seen. Not that any of his previous employers had spent any caps to fix him up. Barrows was miles better than Charon, who had stitched himself up plenty of times, but, then again, it didn’t hurt having glowing ones to speed the healing process. 

Charon took a deep breath before going into Carol’s. Maybe Greta wouldn’t be there. He could hope, anyways. Back then she had offered, and at the time Charon really hadn’t had a reason to say no. But now he had a million reasons to wish that he hadn’t, and Reason Number One was sitting at a table in the corner, sipping a Nuka-Cola. The place was empty; Charon didn’t even see Carol. Smoothskin’s feet didn’t quite touch the ground and he smiled. Her feet gently swayed back and forth, occasionally touching the sleeping dog at her feet. She looked so innocent it has hard to take her seriously, even though Charon knew, probably better than most, just how deadly she could be.

The light in Carol’s was soft and yellow, and it made Smoothskin look even more beautiful. Her hair fell in front of her eyes and Charon had the intense desire to kiss her right there. Before he could get to her table, however, someone cut in front of him, blocking her off from his view. Greta.  

“Hey,” she rasped quietly, running her finger up along his chest plate. He glanced frantically over her head to Smoothskin, hoping she hadn’t seen, but she was already headed their way, her brows knitted together, a scowl of her face. _Is that how I typically look?_  Charon tried to push Greta away, but she latched onto his arm, fitting herself in a place that wasn’t hers. Charon saw the hurt expression on Smoothskin’s face, before it was replaced with nothing. Her face was empty and expressionless when she approached them. Greta turned and smiled at Smoothskin, “I was just about to tell Charon how much we’ve missed him around here. You’re staying the night, right? I’m sure Charon could use a night off.” Greta winked at Smoothskin before looking up to Charon. 

He was trying to pull his arm free...  _Why didn’t she get the hint?_ Charon looked desperately at Smoothskin, “This isn’t-” but before he could finish, she cut him off. 

“You’re right Greta. Charon, stay here. I’ll be back later,” she said, her voice flat. She was smiling, fake and saccharine at the two of them. She whistled and the dog went with her. When she left the door banged behind her and Charon longed to follow, but she had ordered him to stay. 

“Thank goodness we’re alone. I bet she works you like a dog. Let’s get this armor off… enjoy your night of freedom,” she ran her fingers along his neck. All of his rage washed over him like ice creeping into his veins. 

“Let me go,” his voice was low and threatening, and his eyes left no room for argument. Her hands fell slowly from his body. 

“Aren’t you in the mood? You can’t have been getting anything in the Wastes,” she said, confused. “I can make you feel good. We can feel good together again if you’ll let me…” 

“No,” he ground out the single syllable, his jaw clenched so tightly it barely slipped out. He pushed her so hard she fell to the ground. 

“Oh, I get it,” Greta said, still on the ground. Her eyes narrowed. “You’re holding out for Smoothskin. She was a little bit nice to you, and now you can’t get the idea of fucking her out of your head. Ghoul meat isn’t good enough for you anymore, you just want a piece of that Smoothskin’s slick cunt. Well, guess what, she doesn’t want you. Smoothskins don’t want us. She doesn’t want you.” 

Charon’s eyes narrowed into slits and his hands tightened into fists. “You’re wrong. You don’t know her.” Greta laughed and stood up. 

"Is that what you tell yourself? She's different? She looks past the decay and rot? Into what? Your sense of humor? Your beautiful soul? We both know better than that Charon. You might not have ever talked to anyone in the Underworld, but that didn't stop us from getting to know you."

"She cares about me. She loves me," Charon argued, but it sounded hollow, even to him. She snickered.

“So. You actually got to fuck her.” Greta stood up, and moved into Charon’s space. “It doesn’t matter. She’ll get tired of you. Of your milky eyes and tattered skin. You’re fucked up, Charon. All ghouls are, but you especially and you know it. She owns you. You’re nothing more than a convenient cock. If you want to fuck above your pay grade, go right ahead, but don’t act like it’s love.” She spat out the word love, like it wasn’t possible to love someone, or love him at least. 

“You don’t know a goddamn thing. Get the fuck out of my face before I smash yours in,” Charon growled. He wanted to hurt her. The desire for it was thick and real, pulsing through his body. 

“Fuck you and your whore Smoothskin,” Greta challenged, poking him in the chest. Before he could stop himself- no, that was a lie, he didn’t try to stop himself- he was wrapping his hands around her throat. The little gasp she made as air stopped coming in was almost as satisfying as the feeling of her fingernails scraping his forearms. When her skin started to go pale, Charon grinned. _She’s right. I am fucked up._ But he didn’t stop. Her attempts to breathe were growing weaker and weaker. It made Charon feel better to watch her fade. Sarah’s hurt expression flooded back into his mind and he squeezed a little tighter. 

*** 

Sarah wanted to be away from people, away from ghouls, so she went outside of Underworld. The large fossil in the great room of the Museum cast long shadows against the wall. Dogmeat sat solemnly next to her, as if sensing her mood. It was comforting to have him there, but not enough to erase her worries. She grabbed the worn pack of cigarettes from her bag and pulled one out. She let one of the flaming lights flanking the doors light her cigarette and took a deep drag. Charon wasn’t her property- _yes he is_ \- and he was free to do as he liked. _Or who he liked._ Greta was a better fit for him. She understood things that Sarah never would. It hurt more than she wanted to admit, and she drawled on her cigarette until her lungs hurt from the smoke. Sarah flicked her cigarette towards the ancient bones in the corner. Her jealousy and pride at odds with how much she said she didn’t care; she couldn’t stop herself from going back to Carol’s.

She tried to steel herself, but it felt like her chest was made of paper, and Charon with Greta would've ripped it apart. Her palms were wet against the door handle; it seemed too heavy to move. When she opened the door, they were so close together and Sarah's breath froze in her throat. It took her a moment to realize Charon was choking the female ghoul, a deranged smile on his face. It was small of her, and she felt guilty, but a dark part of her was happy. Happy that he didn’t want Greta. Happy to see her struggle for air. The longer Sarah was out in the Wasteland the more everything became morally fuzzy for her. 

“Charon, stop.” Sarah’s voice was firm and clear. He immediately let Greta go and she dropped to the ground, like a rag doll. Her ragged breathing filled the room, like she was trying to suck every molecule of oxygen from it. Charon flexed his fingers looking down at Greta. “Charon.” 

He looked up. “I- I didn’t want her,” his raspy voice shook and a chill rolled through Sarah. Charon walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her tightly.  _This._ She sighed into him, letting the radiant warmth of his body pulse against her skin. It felt just a little bit wrong, enjoying a moment like this while Greta wheezed on the floor, but Sarah didn't really care. She realized that if Greta had been with Charon, she would've killed her. She would've enjoyed it too. Screaming and crying like a teenage girl was behind her now. She kept blaming the Wastes, but she wasn't sure. She hoped it was and not just something she was telling herself. 

"I know." She knew he was telling the truth. She trusted him, more than she trusted herself. 

Greta was beginning to get her lungs back, and she staggered to her feet. “Get the fuck out. Get the fuck out now,” Greta choked out, still wobbly. Dogmeat gave a light growl, but otherwise stayed near his master. 

Sarah stared at Greta coldly from the comfort of Charon's embrace. Without breaking eye contact, she kissed Charon deeply, letting her tongue slip into his mouth. _He's mine._ The feeling was primitive and possessive, a dog guarding a bone. When she broke the kiss she curled her lips into a cruel smile, causing the ghoulette to flinch. It was petty, but fuck, Sarah wasn’t perfect. 

 


	40. A Child and Her Father

“You were jealous,” Charon said, the corner of his mouth pulling slightly up in a smile. Sarah internally twitched in irritation. They were staying the night in the Wastes. Charon had started a fire and was currently cooking the meat, she wasn’t sure what type. Sarah sat across the fire with her arms crossed, choosing to ignore him. He smiled wider at her silence, but didn’t push her further.  _Ass._  
  
Sarah watched the flames flicker. It was hard to think about how she’d changed. She almost didn’t recognize herself. It wasn’t like she’d tried to be perfect, but she had never questioned whether she was a good person. Now she asked herself everyday. She remembered Jonas, her father, even Amata. Everything was so easy in the Vault. Even as a doctor, the body was like a machine, you follow the steps and fix the problem. Now they were so abstract that Sarah had a hard time keeping what good was straight in her head. A drop of fat from the meat dripped onto the fire and crackled, spitting little sparks in protest. Charon pulled the meat off the fire, and Sarah glanced up to him, watching as he pulled a large piece of meat off and handed her what was left on the stick. She pulled off a chunk and tossed it to Dogmeat, who settled in to gnaw on it. She took a bite of her own piece, savoring it. The Wastes was quiet tonight, but it was fine with her. It was hard to pull herself out of her thoughts, and she didn’t try that hard.  
 

 ***

  
Charon stayed up all night, watching the moon travel across the sky. He wasn’t sure when Smoothskin fell asleep, but he could hear her even breathing. He thought about what Greta had said, about how much he believed, about how long a ghoul and smoothskin could actually be anything. He remembered how jealous she had looked, how hard her lips were pressed against his. It was comforting. He didn’t give a fuck what anyone else said or thought. He wanted her, and he was tired of doubting himself, of being afraid to care about her. As long as she wanted him, he would be there for her, in whatever way she wanted. His chest tightened at the thought of when the day came she didn’t want him, but he could deal with it. He would shut everything off, until the only thing that he was, was the contract.  
  
When the sun rose, it turned the Wasteland shades of pink and orange, casting a gentle warmth on his face. He let her sleep a while longer, they weren’t in a rush to be anywhere. Charon wasn’t even sure where they were going. He watched her stretch, slowly coming awake. She sat up, rubbing her eyes and blinking.  
  
“Morning,” she mumbled, still trying to wake up. He grunted in response. He watched as she dug through her bag, until she pulled out two mutfruits, throwing one to him. They ate in silence, and Charon wondered where exactly they stood. She hadn’t really said anything since leaving Underworld. Their camp was across the river, underneath the pillar of a bridge. From this point they could go on to Megaton, or anywhere else for that matter. He didn’t really care, to be honest. He just wanted to be somewhere safe that he could get lost in the feeling of her skin on his. Not just sex, but the lazy intimacy of her leg thrown over his and her hair brushing his face. It was nice to let everything fade away in those moments.

 ***

  
Sarah had been debating with herself or where to go from here. She could go to Megaton. They had enough caps to live better than most in the Wastes for the rest of their lives. It would be easy, and safe, and best of all Sarah wouldn’t keep having to make those difficult decisions. Her head throbbed. She could go see her father. He was at the Memorial. Sarah sighed. She didn’t want to go, but going home to Megaton and waiting to die wasn’t really an option either, at least not anymore. The Capital Wasteland felt like her responsibility now, and she would do her part to clean it up, even if it felt like she was cleaning a stadium with a toothbrush.  
  
“How do you feel about going to see my father?” Sarah asked Charon. He swallowed his bite of mutfruit.  
  
“If that’s what you want, I have no objections.”  
  
She rolled her eyes, “You don’t have objections about anything. The Memorial it is.” Charon nodded. The last time she had seen her father hadn’t gone the way she wanted. Nothing ever went the way she wanted, but she had built up this reunion in her mind, her father’s stubble rubbing against her face as he squeezed her tightly, his deep voice telling her how much he missed her, how proud he was of her. When she closed her eyes sometimes, she could hear his voice back when they were in the Vault. She loved her father, but everything was so different now, and their relationship could never be what it was in the Vault. That was locked away forever and Sarah mourned that fact as she stared at the burned out fire from the night before. The thought of giving the people of the Wastes clean water got her to stand up and try to ignore the things she couldn’t change. It was a part of life, and focusing on it only made her feel bitter.  
  
She let Charon lead the way, preferring to let her mind go blank. They reached the Memorial by noon, the sun hidden by the hazy, radiated clouds. The place seemed empty, and Sarah wondered if she had been wrong and her dad was still in Rivet City with Doctor Li. Maybe he hadn’t convinced her to start the project back up. But her doubts were alleviated when they rounded the corner and she saw a hawkish woman in a crisp, white lab coat. Her heels clicked as she marched over to the two of them. Her nose wrinkled up at the sight of Charon, allowing Sarah to make an instant decision about this woman’s character.  
  
“This area is off limits to the public. Leave now,” the woman demanded, her lips pursing.  
  
Sarah grinned, “I’m on the list.” As punctuation, Charon unslung his shotgun, causing the woman to scurry backwards, her heels clicking rapidly. Sarah glanced at him, trying not to smile and failing. He laughed once, rough and gritty.  
  
Sarah decided to follow her, and the woman clicked her way to the Rotunda, glancing back at them frequently. When they entered the roundabout, the woman started yelling, causing everyone to look at them. Sarah saw multiple people reach for their weapons, including her father. She wasn’t worried, none of these people were a threat to her or Charon. When her father recognized her, he relaxed the grip on his pistol.  
  
“Sarah!” he said, walking down the steps. The woman in the lab coat stopped, glancing between the two of them.  
  
“You… know her? I told her she was trespassing, but then that, that thing brandished his weapon like an animal! I feared for my life!” she screeched, like one of the crows out in the Wastes. Sarah twitched in annoyance.  
  
“You would know if your life was in danger,” Sarah retorted, narrowing her eyes. She heard Charon chuckle behind her.  
  
“This is my daughter, Sarah. You’ll have to forgive her behavior, Janice, she’s been out in the Wastes a long time.” He looked sad, like he was disappointed in her, and it made Sarah feel a pang of guilt.   
  
“Dad, you don’t need to apologize for me.”  
  
“Are you going to do it?” he raised one eyebrow, like he knew her better than anyone else. But he didn’t know her anymore; she barely knew herself. By this time, they were face to face. He brushed his hand on her cheek and she closed her eyes. It was almost like it was just the two of them again.  
  
“Dad.”  
  
“You look so much like your mother. Do you remember her favorite passage?” Sarah nodded. When she was young, she had traced the framed picture in their home in the Vault. “Revelations 21:6. I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life, freely.” Sarah thought the words with him, a prayer of sorts. “Don’t you see? This is what it all means. The water, the purifier. These are the waters of life. Your mother’s dreams. You can help me do it, Sarah. You can help me make her dream come true.” He was looking at her desperately, and she couldn’t tell him no.  
  
“You know I’ll help you, Dad.”  
  
“Wonderful! Well, there’s no point in wasting time. The automatic doors sealed when the flooding occurred, so you’ll have to use the access tunnels to reach the pumps. Can you and…” he glanced at Charon but decided against saying whatever he was thinking, “your... companion, reach them and turn them on? You can get there through the sub-basement.  
  
“Sure thing. C’mon, Charon.” She turned to leave and her father called after her. Dogmeat nudged her father’s hand once, before chasing Sarah and Charon down the stairs.   
  
“I’ll walk you through it over the intercom system. Love you, honey!”  
  
Without looking back, Sarah waved her hand, “Love you too, Dad.” It wasn’t much, they were both too stubborn to give in completely, but if he was willing to work through it, so was she.   


***

  
They had spent the better part of four hours travelling back and forth between the Rotunda and the sub-basement. First, they had fixed the flood control panel, then the fuse box that controlled the doors. They had just finished booting up the mainframe, and she was talking to her father over the intercom system. Conveniently, everywhere they needed to be had an intercom, and Smoothskin's father was nearly constantly talking to her through it. James mentioned her disarming the Megaton bomb, which Charon wasn’t aware of, but he wasn’t surprised. Her father, however, was a different story. Her good deeds didn’t match up with her demeanor, and people had a hard time when they couldn’t put someone neatly into a box.  
  
On one of their many trips back and forth from the Rotunda, he heard two of the squawkish scientists discussing how different they thought the Savior would be.  
  
“The way Three Dog goes on about her, you’d think she was the greatest being to ever walk the earth,” one tried to whisper.  
  
“Oh, I know! Could be nicer. Seems like a bitch to me. Half the stuff on the radio probably isn’t even true.” Charon stared at them intensely until they fell silent. The average person was intimidated by him, and sometimes Charon did enjoy using that to his advantage.  
  
Smoothskin turned off the intercom. “Apparently there’s a blockage in one of the intake pipes. _Janice_ told him,” she said, rolling her eyes. “After that we should be done. I’m starving.” They headed up to the main level, until they got to a metal grate. She sighed, “This will be fun.” They hopped down, the pipe echoing their steps until they reached the pipe controls. The handle was hard to turn, and Charon struggled until he heard the sound of flowing water. Just as he let go, he heard whooshing sounds, like air being whipped around outside. It almost sounded like a Vertibird, from before the bombs fell. He didn’t believe they existed anymore, but when he saw one fly by through the grating, fear curled in his stomach.  
  
“We need to leave,” Charon said urgently.  
  
“Wait, what? Who are those people? What are those things?” She was confused and he didn’t blame her.  
  
“I don’t know who they are, but that’s pre-War technology. People don’t just have that lying around. We need to go, now!” His tone was getting more and more urgent, this was not a place they needed to be.  
  
“I can’t just leave my dad. Once he’s with us, we leave. Until then I’m not going anywhere.” _Goddamn, she’s stubborn._  
  
“Fine, let’s go. Now.” He headed up the pipeline first, his shotgun out and his finger resting on the trigger. Dogmeat splashed behind them, lapping at the water rushing by. It was hard to explain urgency to a dog.   
  
When they got into the main part of the building, someone in a type of power armor that Charon had never seen before was waiting for them. The soldier fired his weapon, a green laser-like beam shooting towards Charon, so he ran back deeper into the pipe. Their attacker was separated from them by a chain link fence, so explosives were out of the question. He took a potshot with his gun behind the pipe, mainly trying to make them back off. Sarah was crouched behind him, and she pulled out her sniper rifle. He could feel her breathing steady and she cracked off one shot, then another, then another. The sound of power armor hitting the floor let him know she had been successful. As they passed the body Sarah grabbed the dead man’s weapon. The main level of the Memorial only had two more of the armed soldiers, and Charon snuck up behind one, breaking his neck. Smoothskin handled the other, using him as target practice with her new weapon.  
  
She headed straight for the Rotunda at a full run, pushing open the door and running up the stairs, looking for her father. Charon loped behind her, his longer strides easily keeping up with her. The dog snaked behind them, his body low to the ground and his hackles raised. Doctor Li was at the top of the stairs, staring into the control room. Her father and the squawking scientist were in the room with two of the power-armored soldiers and a man with a stern stance and demeanor. Charon was beyond worried. These men were organized, trained, and well equipped, something that no one else in the Wasteland had, at least not to this level.  
  
“By the authority of the President, this facility is now under United States government control,” the man clearly in charge stated factually. This man was used to his orders being carried out quickly and without question. Charon had taken enough orders to know. His long coat was crisp and white, his hands folded together behind his back.  
  
“The person in charge is to step forward and turn over all materials related to this project.” Smoothskin began banging on the glass paneling, but her father refused to look at her.  
  
“I’m sorry, but that’s impossible. This is a private project and you have no authority here. I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” James said. Charon was slightly impressed with his calm demeanor. It took balls.  
  
“Am I to assume, sir, that you are in charge?” Smoothskin was still banging on the glass, yelling to her father. James glanced at her once.  
  
“I’m responsible for this project,” he said, focusing back on the man in white.  
  
“Then you are to hand over all materials as well as assist the Enclave scientists in assuming control of the operation of this facility.” Charon could tell the man was getting irritated.  
  
“Colonel… Is it Colonel? This facility isn’t operational, and never has been. I’m sorry to waste your time.”  
  
The man sighed. “This is the last time I am going to repeat myself. Stand down at once, and turn over control of this facility.”  
  
“I’m sorry, but I can’t-“ Before Smoothskin’s father could finish, the colonel pulled out his sidearm and shot the squawkish female with him straight in the head. Doctor Li screamed, and Smoothskin had a sharp intake of breath, before redoubling her efforts banging on the glass.  
  
“I suggest you comply before any further incidents occur. Are we clear?”  
  
James nodded. “Yes, Colonel. I’ll do whatever you want; there’s no need for more violence.” James walked over to control panel, where he began typing in a sequence. After he was done, he stood there waiting, for what Charon didn’t know.  
  
“Enough delays. I want it now!” the man was getting increasingly hostile and Charon was worried for James. Personally, he didn’t care much for him, but he was important to Smoothskin, and he didn’t want her to experience pain. He glanced over at her and there were tears in her eyes as she watched her father.  
  
“Almost ready. I’m compiling the data now,” James said calmly.  
  
As if to punctuate, an explosion rocked the room, causing Charon to go down on one knee. He felt the warm flow through his limbs that he recognized so well. Radiation. When he stood back up, her father was leaned against one of the glass panels. Charon could feel the increase in radiation was in that room. It called to him subtly, a pulsing heat.   
  
Smoothskin’s hand was pressed to the glass, trying to reach her father through the glass. He heard James gasp out, “Run… run!” and Charon tried to pull her away but she was frantic. She pushed him away and pressed herself against the glass, raking her nails down the sides.  
  
“Daddy, please. Please don’t do this. Don’t leave me. I need you. I need you. I’m sorry- I’m so sorry for everything, just please don’t do this. Open the door. I can’t do this without you,” she sobbed, her voice trembling. Tears spilled down her cheeks in rapid succession. He never wanted to see her like this. He couldn’t let her stay her though. They needed to leave, and there was no was to save her father in time. Charon and James made eye contact.  
  
“Get her out of here, please,” he begged Charon, and he knew what he needed to do. At the thought, his stomach coiled in nausea and his head throbbed. He nodded to her father and they had a moment of understanding. Charon would keep his daughter safe. He wanted James to know that before he died, that his daughter was safe. James nodded back, before sinking to the ground, unable to stand from the radiation. Charon understood how painful the radiation was; hopefully it would be over quickly for him. Before he could second guess himself, he picked up Smoothskin, slinging her over his shoulder.  
  
“Put m-,” he clamped his hand over her mouth before she could finish her order and make him obey. His head was pounding, and the nausea was making it difficult to stand, but sheer willpower kept him on his feet. He staggered down the stairs, trying to ignore Smoothskin’s teeth in his palm and the rains of kicks on his back. Dogmeat barked incessantly, nipping lightly at his hands. He pushed the dog away with his free arm and Dogmeat put his ears back, hurt.   
  
Doctor Li was leaning against the steps. “James… he’s gone…”  
  
Charon had little patience. “We need to go. NOW.”  
  
“There’s an old abandoned tunnel,” she glanced to Smoothskin on his shoulder. “You need to get her out of here.”  
  
“I’m trying,” Charon gritted, nodding the woman forward. She led the way, leaving the Rotunda, to a tunnel. Of course there’s a ladder. He carried Smoothskin down, using one arm. It was jerky, but it got the job done. He glanced up, trying to figure out how to get the dog down the ladder, but he shouldn’t have bothered. As he looked up, Dogmeat barked twice overhead, before jumping into the tunnel. He cried out as he hit the hard dirt below, but he picked himself up and seemed to only have a minor limp. _It can wait._  Once they were all in the tunnels, Charon surveyed the group. It was the two of them, Doctor Li, two scientists, and a Wastelander. None of them looked proficient at weapons. He couldn’t protect the entire group carrying Smoothskin. He set her down, uncovering her mouth, bracing himself for the onslaught. But it never came. She refused to even look at him, which was somehow worse than the screaming he expected. It was like he wasn’t even there, and when he stepped in front of her path, her eyes passed over him like empty air. Charon’s breathing quickened. Why doesn’t she understand? She has to understand. We couldn’t stay.  
  
Charon was suddenly aware of everyone in the group staring at them. Charon saw how close he was standing to Smoothskin and he took a step back. She breezed right past him.  
  
“Doctor Li, where does the tunnel lead?” her voice was flat, almost like she was discussing the weather. Doctor Li pulled her eyes away from Charon. Dogmeat nudged Smoothskin’s hand, but she ignored him.   
  
“This tunnel leads to the Citadel, the Brotherhood of Steel fortress. We should be safe there, if we make it,” Doctor Li said nervously.  
  
“We’ll make it. All of us. My father gave his life for you. I’m not going to let that be a waste,” Smoothskin said, her tone accusing, like it was their fault her father was dead. “I’ll lead. Charon will take up the rear. Everyone follow my lead. If we can avoid trouble, we will. So stay quiet and slow.” Without waiting to see if anyone was following, she set off down the tunnel. Charon heeded her wishes, even though she hadn’t explicitly told him, and let everyone file in before he fell in last.  
  
They tunnels were mostly empty, save for a few Eyebots which they left alone, and a single Enclave soldier, which they hid from until he passed through on his patrol. Sneaking helped them avoid any additional notice, until Doctor Li opened a primary door and Charon heard the familiar hiss of ghouls. Charon’s head felt like pulp from how much it was pounding at this point. He readjusted the grip on his gun, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants.  
  
“Wait, we need to stop,” Doctor Li whispered loudly. The group came to a stop, just as the Wastelander collapsed to the ground. “Garza has a heart condition. I don’t have any medical supplies with me. Do you have any Stimpaks?” she asked Smoothskin expectantly. Wordlessly, Smoothskin pulled out 5 Stimpaks, before turning to survey the perimeter. While Doctor Li attended to the man, Charon stared at Smoothskin, trying to will her to look at him. Give him anything, a word, a look, a beating. At this point Charon didn’t care what it was, as long as she acknowledged him. He needed her to see him. Not in the way that everyone else saw him, but in the way that only she looked at him, deep and understanding.  
  
Charon started thinking about losing her, about never holding her again. Suddenly, he couldn’t breath. Or maybe air was coming in but his lungs had lost the ability to do anything with it, Charon couldn’t tell. He crouched down, trying to get a hold of himself. If he had told himself a year ago he would be having a panic attack over some girl he would’ve laughed in his own face. But she wasn’t just some girl and this wasn’t funny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve really been dragging my feet on this. As I’ve said before, my father died this year and it’s been really hard writing this when I experienced this myself. I chose to write from Charon’s perspective as a way to ease myself into it, but next chapter will be dealing with her point of view and dealing with the aftermath.


	41. Memories in a Shadow of a Thing

Sarah’s memory flicked back to when she was still in the vault. She must’ve been young, the memory was hazy and slipped around in her head, unwilling to be pinned down. She wasn’t sure how real it was, if at all. She was sitting in the living room, playing with one of the few toys she had, her father sitting on the floor with her. He heard his laugh, loud in her ear, and trembled at the thought of never hearing it again. He was gone. Death had always seemed so distant. In the Vault, there was safety, surety. In the Wastes, death happened all too frequently, but it always seemed to be happening around her, never to her. Even with her mother it was hard to fully grasp, as she had never known a different world. That was all different now. She felt the large, looming void that her father left, knowing that nothing would be able to fill it. She could throw drugs, drinking, her entire life at it, but it would keep slowly creeping up on her until it rolled over her completely. 

There were so many things she wished she had said. Thinking about their stupid fight, that they never really made up, nauseated her, and her already empty stomach threatened to heave. She started breathing faster, something caught in her throat. Her eyes flitted from place to place underground, and she began to panic. Not the nervous panderings of someone uncomfortable, but hyperventilating sobs that racked through her, forcing her to stuff her fist into her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut and pulled her knees tightly into her chest, trying not to completely lose it. She wanted to fling herself off a cliff, feel the wind whipping through her hair, caressing her tear stained face. She wanted to be free from whatever hell this was. She didn’t want to be here anymore. She was done. She didn’t want to experience any of it anymore. Her father couldn’t, and he was so much better than her, what gave her the right to go on in his place, a poor imitation. 

A soft touch to her shoulder made her whip her head around. She already knew it was Charon. “What?” She snapped, her voice full of pain and hate. She hated herself, her father, everything in the world really. How could it keep moving so easily, when clearly she was falling apart. 

Charon pulled his hand back from her tentatively, his eyes clearly asking her what to do. This wasn’t fair of her, but she didn’t care. Maybe she could’ve saved him if Charon hadn’t pulled her away. She knew deep down that was a lie, but it was the only thing that wasn’t her fault. The rest of it, every argument, every stubborn time she refused to apologize, piled on top of her, threatening to suffocate her. It felt like she was in a deep well, treading water, but eventually she would get tired and the water would pull her under. 

“Sarah,” he whispered quietly his hand still halfway between them, his fingers extended towards her. Suddenly Sarah wanted to throw herself into Charon, let him make her forget her father, this pain, this void. The remainder of the group was still resting, so she grabbed his hand, pulling him roughly away from them. She blindly went deeper into the tunnels, until she was sure they couldn’t see or hear them. She pulled Charon in front of her, pushing him against the wall, pressing her leg in between his. Her hand curled around his neck, pulling his face down to her, trapping his mouth in a kiss. He felt unsure, wavering, not matching her stride for stride the way he normally did, which frustrated her. Her fingers found his belt buckle and frantically began to unfasten in, desperate to feel something other than... whatever she was now. She felt Charon’s hands on her shoulders and she groaned as he pushed her away.

”What are you doing?” He whispered, panting heavily. Her fingers hadn’t left his belt, and her knuckles dragged across his erection through his pants, causing him to grit his teeth. 

“What?” When he was silent, she screamed it at him, louder. “What?!” Her voice echoed down the tunnels. 

“This isn’t you, Smoothskin. You’re not thinking. This isn’t what you need.” His voice was gentle, caressing, but it just infuriated her. 

“How do you know what I  _need_? I  _need_ my father to be alive. I  _needed_ to save him. I  _need_ you,” Sarah said, her voice tightening over the word need. Her fingers fumbled again with his belt, but his hands on hers stopped them. He pulled them up, manually wrapping them around him, bringing her head close to his chest, squeezing her to him. She began beating his chest with her fists. Sobs rolled through her as she screamed that it was his fault her father had died. She could’ve saved him if he hadn’t carried her away. She would’ve found a way to save him. He never said anything, and she hit Charon until her arms were shaking and she was babbling about it being her fault, taking his place. It made sense in her head, but the words spilled out jumbled, and Sarah didn’t care enough to correct them. She had to keep talking. If she stopped, she knew something terrible would be left behind. Silence, and she couldn’t deal with it yet. 

Throughout all of it Charon never said or did anything, letting her spend herself out. Sarah felt like a child having a tantrum, but it was almost like she was standing outside her body, with absolutely no control. Eventually, her constant stream of babbling slowed to a trickle. Sobs stuck in her raw throat, sending tremors through her body. She leaned against Charon’s chest, her fists still tight against his armor. “I wish I was dead with him,” she finally choked out in between sobs. His arms tightened around her, threatening to crush her against him. It was painful, pinching her arms against her chest. But Sarah didn’t really care. 

***

Charon gripped her more and more tightly the longer she spoke, afraid that if he didn’t she would slip into the ether and he would lose her forever. He had taken her punches, her screaming and crying and nonsensical rambling. She trembled and shook, and Charon just crushed her to him, afraid of saying the wrong thing, afraid of saying anything. He had seen what he thought were the highs and lows of her emotional spectrum, but this was something he had been unprepared for. Dragging him down the hallway, her fumbling with his belt. He was by no means an expert, but even he knew this wasn’t healthy. 

When her sobs had mostly subsided, she whispered, “I wish I was dead with him,” and Charon’s arms squeezed her tighter, trying to leach her pain into him. He would’ve taken all of it in a second if it were possible. But it wasn’t and Charon shook her with frustration.

”Don’t you ever say that,” he growled at her. “Don’t say it, don’t think it, don’t feel it.” He shook her harder, forcing her to look up at him. “He loved you and died for you. You don’t get to clock out on that. You don’t get to clock out on me. I need you Sarah.” His voice broke with emotion. After trying to deny it and pretend he didn’t, he was finally ready to admit it to himself. He loved her. He loved her so much it scared him. 

He slid his hand up her back, running through her hair before resting on her cheek. It was warm and damp, and Charon had the urge to kiss her for every tear that had fallen, so he did. He kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her nose, even her eyelids. Her kissed her lightly, tasting the salt from her sweat and tears. His last kiss was the only one on her lips, and it was so gentle he barely registered her chapped lips against his before they were gone. The longer he kissed her, the more she crumpled inward until she looked so small and fragile he was afraid she would break apart if a breeze blew by. 

“You want me to carry you?” He whispered quietly in her ear, nuzzling her into the crook of his shoulder. He was slightly surprised when she nodded yes. She was usually so independent, and it worried him. But if that was what she needed right now he would carry her. He might not know what to say or how to fix this, how to fix her, but he could be strong for her while she put herself back together piece by piece. 

Sarah meekly climbed onto Charon’s back, reminding him of the weeks he had to carry her around Megaton. He didn’t mind then and he didn’t mind now. It complicated running point in the group, but they would manage. Her head buried itself into his back, and he could feel her breath hot against the nape of his neck. He loped back down the tunnel. The group had obviously been nervous and antsy at their absence, but kept it to themselves.  _Smart._ The rest of the journey proved uneventful, and towards the end, Charon heard the regular sound of her breathing. She had fallen asleep. 

They passed the Brotherhood of Steel, who were dealing with some feral ghouls. They were yet another faction that viewed all ghouls as one and the same. When they reached the end Charon slowly climbed the ladder, up, careful to keep one hand wrapped back around her. The group approached a massive gate, with a tall concrete fence surrounding it. Dr. Li immediately began screeching in that irritating voice of hers, but Charon didn’t pay attention to what she said. Only when the gate slide upwards did Charon look up again. They all walked through the gaping maw of the gate, and Charon listened as it shuddered closed behind them. He didn’t like feeling closed in. Once they had walked through a second, much less impressive door, a old man with clean blue robes greeted them. His face was tanned and wrinkled, his cropped hair and trimmed beard snowy white. He and Dr. Li immediately began talking in hushed tones, with repeated glances towards him that he tried to ignore. Once they were finished, the man approached Charon, but as the man started to speak, looked behind him.

”She’s sleeping,” Charon said quietly. 

“Of course, of course. Her father was a good man. I’m sure this isn’t easy for her. I’ve told my staff to arrange a private room for her to recouperate in. Sadly that was the last room available, but you’re more than welcome to stay with the ranks in the Barracks. I can alert them to your presence and can ensure that no one will bother you. 

“I stay with her,” Charon said, squeezing her legs protectively. She moaned softly into his back and Charon glanced back at her worriedly. 

“As you wish,” the man nodded. If he had any comments, he kept them to himself. He personally led Charon to her private room. There were bottles of purified water and two bowls of noodles sitting on a small table with a chair. The bed was large, with fresh sheets and a blanket tucked neatly at the corners.  _Military,_ Charon thought rolling his eyes. The man silently nodded his goodbye at the door, and Charon nudged it shut with his foot. He set his sleeping backpack down gently on the bed, quickly and quietly removing his armor. When the only thing left was his boots, he saw her stretch languidly, before blinking her eyes open. When she saw him, she gave a small, sleepy smile. She seemed her normal self. Until her eyes widened and her face drained of color. A look of horror replaced any sleepiness, and Charon crossed the room as he pulled off his last boot, throwing it away. He pulled her body up into his, situating it in his lap. He stroked her hair with his hand.

”Shhh, it’s okay. I’m here,” he said, trying to soothe her. He helped her pull off her armor as she frantically pulled at her chest piece, her bracers, all of it.

”I forgot. How could I forget. He’s dead and I forgot,” she repeated herself over and over, spiraling out. When she started to hyperventilate, Charon pressed her harder to him.

“Just breathe. Listen to my breathing, in and out. In and out. Try to match me.” When her breathing was back to normal, Charon went back to stroking her hair, whispering to her about nothing. After a while, he heard a faint grumbling from her stomach. He glanced over to the bowl of food on the table, then back down to her. He tried to gently extract himself without bothering her, but the second he drew away her hands scrambled to him, her eyes looking up at him terrified. He sighed, scooping her up with one arm, before walking over to the table and grabbing a bottle of water and the noodles. Crawling back into bed, he settled her crossways in her lap, nudging her hands until she took the bowl in them. She looked down at the food blankly, and Charon had to nudge her twice more to get her moving again.

”It seems so normal. Eating. It’s just something that you do. But nothing about this feels normal. My dad is dead and I’m sitting here, living, eating noodles. It feels wrong. How am I supposed to eat, bathe, breathe, knowing he’s dead. Every breath I draw in feels so forced, like someone is sitting on my chest, waiting for me to give up so it can all be over,” her voice sounded dry and empty. 

“You have to eat,” Charon said as gently as he could. 

“I know,” she sighed, like she was submitting herself to an unpleasant task. She swirled the noodles around for a second, before twirling them up onto her fork. She ate slowly, but she ate the entire bowl, before washing it down with the bottle of water. She leaned against Charon, sighing as though the effort of simply eating had been more than she was capable of. “Charon?”

”Hmm?” The sound vibrated from his chest. 

“What if I can’t do this?” She sounded so broken, Charon wanted to pull her into him and shelter her from the world forever. 

“You can,” he sounded resolute because he honestly believed it. She was strong, and when she was weak he would pick her up and be strong for her. 

“Will you be with me?” 

“Always,” he replied, pressing his face against hers, feeling the familiar ache in his chest that he now realized was love.

***

Sarah remembered sitting in the dining hall at the Vault. She couldn’t have been older than 6 or 7, and she was struggling to scoop up the slippery noodles with her fork. Every time she thought she had one, it slipped of her fork, leaving her teeth to smack down on metal. Her face was screwed up in concentration, and every time the noodles slipped off her fork she huffed in frustration. After watching for a moment, her father had chuckled lightly.

”You want some help there?” She remembered him saying. He had patiently showed her how to twirl the noodles with the fork, making an almost ball of yarn. It was sloppy and noodles stuck out at all sides, but Sarah had eagerly shoved the food in her mouth, savoring her triumph. Her father laughed at her loudly as she slurped the last noodle into her mouth, before admonishing her for her poor manners. But even then he couldn’t keep the hint of a smile off his face. 

Was this her life now? Was she going to see his memory in every shadow, every little activity spurring a new pain? Sarah didn’t know if she could take it. But Charon never stopped touching her, whispering to her, and eventually she surrendered to his voice, content to let him keep the monsters at bay, at least for the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was really hard to write for multiple reasons. If you have ever lost someone close to you, that pain is impossible to describe. You do and say and feel things that are irrational to everyone but you because nothing makes sense anymore. I’m still dealing with it, and probably always will be. But it gets better. Every day gets better. I hope you enjoy this chapter.


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